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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23486110">I'll Let You Set the Pace</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/zerodaryls/pseuds/zerodaryls'>zerodaryls</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman &amp; Terry Pratchett</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Also Quite a Bit of Fluff. As a Treat., Angst and Feels, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety, Aziraphale Has a Penis (Good Omens), Boundaries, Consent, Crowley Has A Vulva (Good Omens), Crowley Has Panic Attacks (Good Omens), Crowley Has Self-Esteem Issues (Good Omens), Enthusiastic Consent, Eventual Sex, Explicit Consent, Panic Attacks, Supportive Aziraphale (Good Omens)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-04-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 08:42:53</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>9</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>30,548</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23486110</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/zerodaryls/pseuds/zerodaryls</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“Everything’s changing now, isn’t it?”</p><p>“Well, not <i>everything</i>.” Aziraphale had smiled, bringing a thumb up to run over Crowley’s bottom lip. “<i>Some</i> things, certainly. <i>Finally</i>. Thank goodness.” He’d tilted his head to bring their lips together again, and, when Crowley’d gasped, took the opportunity to slip a curious tongue between his lips.</p><p>Crowley had grinned against Aziraphale’s mouth before sliding his tongue over the angel’s, savoring the taste of him.<br/> <br/>Yes, things had been going <i>quite</i> well.</p><p>And then Crowley had started panicking.</p><p> </p><p>(Or, "What if Crowley isn't as ready as he thought he'd be once he's finally free to love and be loved by his angel? What if Aziraphale got a taste of what 'you go too fast for me' felt like?")</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>98</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>186</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p><b>Content Notice:</b> descriptions of anxiety symptoms throughout, including detailed anxiety/panic attacks. Insecurity, self-hatred, and shame surrounding anxiety. (I promise a happy ending, though. Crowley's just gotta work through some things, first.)</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Things had been going rather well. Crowley and Aziraphale had prevented armageddon (or, helped, at least), effectively, finally <em>chosen</em> each other, and survived their own executions all in less than the span of one day.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> After their victory outing at the Ritz, they’d headed to the angel’s bookshop for a nap. Crowley wasn’t quite sure how they’d come to agree to this, but he certainly wasn’t complaining. He was exhausted in every sense of the word, and when Aziraphale had casually mentioned that he wanted to add a flat above the shop, to “make better room for more frequent meetings” between the two of them, Crowley had jumped at the chance to help him construct such a place. Aziraphale had agreed that it only made sense for the demon to have his influence on it, since he’d be over often. One of them had suggested getting some rest together afterward, and the other had enthusiastically agreed. Crowley couldn’t even remember who’d brought it up; he’d been so excited at the time.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> They’d gone straight from the Ritz to the bookshop, and straight from the bookshop to the brand new flat upstairs. It was more of a studio, with a kitchen at the entrance to the room–complete with a refrigerator, sink, oven, stove, and a breakfast nook in the corner. On the opposite side was the “bedroom” space, which the pair filled with an antique nightstand, a rather extravagant golden lamp, and, of course, a place for their nap.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Crowley had taken on the creation of the bed himself, seeing as he was the only one between the two of them with any experience sleeping. The mattress was comfortable, with just the right amount of give, fitted with light grey satin sheets; a compromise between Crowley’s preference for black and Aziraphale’s tendency toward lighter colors.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Aziraphale, the predictable bastard, had added a tartan comforter to top it all off. But, seeing as it was a black and red pattern, Crowley didn’t protest it. Instead, he’d flung himself onto the bed, changing into black satin pajamas as he did, and pat the space next to him.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Aziraphale had beamed and lain down beside him after changing into a matching pair of pale blue pajamas. “Oh, this is nice, isn’t it?” he’d remarked.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Mmm.” Crowley had sucked in a breath. Then, with all the courage he could muster, he’d turned until he was leaning over the angel. “Could be better.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Aziraphale had swallowed, but cocked a brow nonetheless. “Oh?” His voice was low, and thick with something Crowley had never thought he’d actually hear from the angel. “How so?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Crowley had smirked, lowered his head until he could feel Aziraphale’s breath on his lips, then waited. <em>Your move, angel.</em></span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> With a small sound that was something between a moan and a whimper, Aziraphale had then tipped his head up just enough to brush his lips against Crowley’s. “<em>Oh,</em>” he’d breathed. “Oh, <em>yes</em>, Crowley.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Crowley had groaned against Aziraphale’s lips, then pulled back and eyed the angel. A bit reservedly, he’d blinked slowly, then remarked, “Everything’s changing now, isn’t it?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Well, not <em>everything</em>.” Aziraphale had smiled, bringing a thumb up to run over Crowley’s bottom lip. “<em>Some</em> things, certainly. <em>Finally</em>. Thank goodness.” He’d tilted his head to bring their lips together again, and, when Crowley’d gasped, took the opportunity to slip a curious tongue between his lips.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Crowley had grinned against Aziraphale’s mouth before sliding his tongue over the angel’s, savoring the taste of him.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Yes, things had been going <em>quite</em> well.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> And then Crowley had started panicking. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> He wasn’t sure what had brought it on. Several things had happened in too quick succession for him to really pin the panic on any one thing. Aziraphale, the love of his life, had moaned his name against his lips. Then, he’d fisted his hands in Crowley’s hair and pressed his mouth more firmly against the other’s. His right hand had slid down to the demon’s shoulder, then yanked on the clothes around his neck to expose enough skin for him to shift his mouth towards, and then the angel had started sucking bruises onto the crook of his neck.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> It could have been any of these things, or perhaps it had been the culmination of all of that activity and the way it had led to him noticing that Aziraphale was sporting an unmistakable sort of hardness against his thigh, and how his own sex had grown wet. Whatever it was, it resulted in Crowley pulling back with a startled gasp, scrambling to a seated position between Aziraphale’s legs, and, inexplicably, bursting into tears.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Crowley?” Aziraphale frowned up at the demon, who’d covered his face with both hands in effort to conceal the severity of his panic. “Darling?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I… I can’t! I am <em>so</em> sorry, Aziraphale, I don’t–” his rising anxiety interrupted his speech as he began hyperventilating, tears continuing to stream down his face. He turned away from the angel and pulled his knees to his chest. He had no idea what was wrong with him, or why he wanted nothing more than to run <em>away</em> from the only one who could offer him any real comfort in that moment, and he wasn’t sure which of those two issues was worse.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Aziraphale sat up, his confused frown replaced with one of growing concern. “Crowley?” He placed a hand on the demon’s back, who jolted and shifted farther away from him on the bed.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I– I– I’m sorry! I don’t know why– I don’t– I can’t understand! Why am I– I can’t–”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Are you… Are you having a panic attack?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Fuckin’ seems like it, doesn’t it?” Crowley snapped, then made a small regretful noise in the back of his throat and shook his head violently. “Sorry, sorry. Sorry.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Aziraphale closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Then, with a voice as soothing as he could manage amidst the stress of seeing the demon so upset, he said, “Crowley, breathe, dear.” He explained, “Humans have developed breathing techniques to cope with anxiety and the like. I’ve found them to be rather helpful. There’s a– There’s a technique I’m particularly fond of. You simply breathe in for four seconds, hold for four seconds, and exhale for four seconds. Will you do that for me?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> The angel sucked in a breath loud enough for Crowley to notice, held it, then exhaled in the same demonstrative manner. “Breathe, and then we can figure out what’s bothering you. Will you take in a breath with me, dear?” He sucked in another breath, and closed his eyes in relief when he heard the demon do the same. He held it for four seconds, then let it out in the same timing, and noted how ragged Crowley’s exhale was. “Again, please,” he encouraged gently, but firmly enough to let Crowley know it was more of an instruction than a suggestion. Crowley complied, taking in, holding, and releasing another breath with him. Then another. And another. They took five mindful breaths together until Crowley shook his head with a huff.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “This is ridiculous,” he muttered. Then, quickly turning back to face Aziraphale, he said, “I– I mean, I’m sorry, Aziraphale, <em>fuck</em>, you’re trying to help me and I–”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Aziraphale hushed him and shook his head. “None of that. Do you feel calm enough to talk about whatever’s got you so… distressed?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Crowley’s lower lip trembled, and he dropped his gaze to his lap. “Dunno.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Tentatively, Aziraphale asked, “Well, was it brought on by what we were, ah, just doing?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Crowley merely nodded, sniffed, and brought an arm up to wipe his cheeks with his sleeve. He huffed out a bitter laugh as the discomfort of being so visibly broken in front of the angel hit him. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Aziraphale’s heart sank at seeing the demon so lost. “Darling–”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Crowley’s sudden grimace cut the angel off.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “…Crowley,” Aziraphale shifted, his voice managing to become even softer. He said each word slowly, as though Crowley might bolt if he misspoke. For all he knew, he would. “Do you think, perhaps, it’s simply… too fast for you?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Crowley barked out a laugh that turned into a sob somewhere along the way. He dropped his head to his knees and shook it. “Doesn’t make <em>sense</em>. I’ve wanted this,” a sudden sharp intake of breath, “I’ve wanted this for <em>years</em>!”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Aziraphale gave a gentle, affirmative hum. “How long? Decades? Centuries? Millennia, even, perhaps?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Exactly!” Crowley wailed. “I’ve wanted this for <em>so</em> long, angel, why the <em>hell</em> can’t I–”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “All those years of longing. Of thinking that, perhaps, you may not ever get to <em>have</em> this, and suddenly, all at once, you’re free to have it. Darl–<em>Crowley… </em>I think you’re simply overwhelmed. As you said, it… it feels as though everything is changing.” Aziraphale tipped Crowley’s chin up and sought out his downcast gaze. “My dear, it is <em>imperative</em> that you understand that not <em>everything</em> is changing. We are <em>not</em> changing the entire nature of our relationship. We are simply adding to it.” Aziraphale cleared his throat and straightened his posture. “And perhaps we ought to add things at a slower pace.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Crowley hated himself for it, but all he could bring himself to do in response was nod. Though the thought made him bewilderingly uneasy, there was still a part of him that wanted nothing more than to pull the angel close, feel the steadying weight of him, maybe sob into his shoulder a bit–<em>Satan</em>, he was a wreck.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Boundaries!” Aziraphale said with a triumphant snap, which consequently snapped Crowley out of another downward spiral. “We need to establish boundaries. Think of it, Crowley: we’ve been holding back for years, and suddenly we’re free to, well, to do just about anything, I suppose. It’s as though the, ah,” Aziraphale’s eyes brightened when he found the right metaphor, “the river of our love had been greatly held back all this time, only letting so much through, but… but the dam was suddenly destroyed, and now, all that emotion, all that longing, it’s <em>flooding</em> us, Crowley. It’s too much, too soon.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Me. S’flooding <em>me</em>.” Crowley sniffed. “You seemed just fine about swimming in all that… whatever, like you said.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I’ve no desire to go swimming if you’re drowning beside me.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Well then you’re gonna have to teach me how to fucking swim because I can’t… I can’t…”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Aziraphale tentatively reached a hand up to Crowley’s shoulder. When the demon jolted, he yanked his hand back to himself. With a sigh, he said, “I think this may require a different approach. I can’t just teach you how to swim, Crowley.” </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Need a life vest, then,” Crowley mumbled.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Aziraphale shook his head. “Forget about the swimming. We need to rebuild the dam. Adjust the size of it, so it will only let through as much love–ah, water, that is–as we can manage.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “You mean as much as <em>I</em> can manage,” Crowley said bitterly. He hoped it was clear that the bitterness was directed at himself, not the angel who was doing everything in his ability to coddle the poor pathetic bastard*.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> *(Crowley’s words, not mine)</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “As much as <em>we</em> can manage,” Aziraphale snapped. “By the <em>Almighty</em>, Crowley, will you <em>please</em> try to… This is a joint effort, you know! Think of it as… Ah! Think of it as a life raft–in our river, you know.” He nodded to himself. “Yes, a life raft, with, um, paddles. We both have to… We both have to row, and– and perhaps one of us can manage a bit more at the moment, but we’re still going to get where we need to go, even if it’s a bit slower than I might…” Realizing his analogy was falling apart, Aziraphale snapped his mouth shut and cleared his throat. “Ah, that is…”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “So you’re saying I’m holding you back?” Crowley, despite his agony, managed to sound amused. He glanced up at the angel with the faintest hint of a smirk. Poor Aziraphale; he was trying. Crowley really wasn’t giving him much to work with. Which nearly sent the demon into another spiral of self-hatred. But no, this was <em>his</em> problem, he wasn’t gonna leave Aziraphale to fix it for him. He sniffed, then straightened his posture and spoke up before Aziraphale could chide him for blaming himself. “Right. Boundaries, then?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Aziraphale’s somewhat guilty look shifted into an awkward smile. “Ah, yes. Boundaries.” He sucked in a breath and cocked his head just a bit. “Well, first… Is… Is it alright if I call you ‘dear’? Does it make you uncomfortable?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Crowley shook his head. “Always liked that.” He managed a small smile. “S’only fair, after all; I get to call you ‘angel’.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Aziraphale blushed, smiling down at his hands before looking back up at Crowley with an uncertain gaze. “And… And ‘darling’?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> The demon winced. Flinched, even, but he hoped it wasn’t noticeable. “I… I’m sorry–”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Oh, would you <em>stop</em> apologizing, Crowley! You’ve nothing to be sorry for!”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “You–<em>Really</em>?! You’re trying to say and do all these… all these <em>fucking wonderful</em> things to me and I’m acting like they make me nauseous. Doesn’t that bother you at all?!”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Well, it’s not <em>ideal</em>,” Aziraphale admitted, his voice low. “But, Crowley, I just want to love you. And loving is a… Well, really, if those things make you nauseous then they aren’t very ‘<em>fucking wonderful</em>’, are they?” He took in a sharp breath and shook his head before looking back at the demon sitting across from him. “One day, perhaps, they will become wonderful. But until then, I don’t want to cause you any stress, dear. That’s quite the <em>opposite</em> of how I’d like you to feel. So, you’ll hear no ‘darling’ from me until it stops bothering you.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> In a barely detectable whisper, Crowley asked, “What if it never does?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Then it’s going to have to be no ‘darling’ at all, isn’t it?” Aziraphale smiled. “There are other ways I can demonstrate my love, you know. We’ll find the ones you’re comfortable with.” He shifted where he sat, fidgeting with his hands as he opened and closed his mouth a few times before finally asking, “What should I call you, Crowley? A-As a word for our relationship, I mean. Friend? Or…”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Do we have to have a word for it right now?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “No!” Aziraphale shouted a little too loudly. “No,” he said, quieter. “No, of course not.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I mean, ‘friend’ is fine. We were already at that point, I think.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Aziraphale nodded to himself. “Yes.” He shook himself into the present moment. “May I… May I tell you how I feel about you?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Crowley looked up with a furrowed brow. “What, now?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Well, I meant more, just…” Aziraphale shifted uncomfortably, glancing down at his hands as he fussed with them in his lap. Then, “May I use the phrase… ‘I love you’?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> The fact that the angel had been so hesitant to even <em>suggest</em> that he might use those three words, as though he thought it might make Crowley flee at the sound of them, brought a lump to the demon’s throat. He swallowed around it, willing away tears as he said, “<em>Of course</em> you can say that.” He winced when he realized that it probably wasn’t quite so obvious to Aziraphale, who had kissed him less than ten minutes earlier with absolutely no idea of the hellhole he’d be pulled into.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Sheepishly, Aziraphale met Crowley’s watery gaze and said, “Well, I wasn’t… That is, I didn’t want to push you too far.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “You can say you love me,” Crowley said, willing himself to be the reassuring one for at least a few seconds. He made sure he was holding Aziraphale’s gaze as he said, unwaveringly, “I love <em>you</em>.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Aziraphale blushed, and glanced back down at his hands. “A-Alright, well. Good. If, um…” He glanced back up. “If that’s all, I think we should move on to the more… physical boundaries. If we think of any other words or phrases later, of course, we can discuss them and make notes.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Crowley grimaced, falling right back into that deep, dark pit comprised of equal parts self-hate and self-pity. <em>Well, so much for being the reassuring one,</em> he thought. <em>Was good while it lasted.</em></span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I think it’s safe to say that you’re not ready for kissing.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> A tear fell from Crowley’s right eye and rolled down his cheek. “Guess not,” he said, not daring to try to speak above a whisper.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Aziraphale watched the tear stream down the demon’s cheek and fought the urge to wipe it with his thumb. Then, “What if I were to give you a kiss on the cheek?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Crowley was still for a moment, then gave a small shrug. “Dunno.” He really didn’t. He thought it might be nice. Comforting, even. But he was also <em>terrified</em> that he’d startle, despite himself, and make the angel feel even more rejected than he likely already did.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Well, I won’t do it, then.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> A strangled noise made its way up Crowley’s throat and out his trembling lips. “W-Wait, I didn’t say…” He looked up at Aziraphale. “Okay.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Aziraphale merely raised a brow.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Go on.” Crowley sucked in a breath, then let it out in a shaky laugh. “Lay it on me.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Crowley…” Aziraphale sounded tired, which only made Crowley feel more desperate.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I <em>want</em> you to!”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Aziraphale blinked, his voice flat as he stated, “You’re crying.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Yeah, so… so kiss it better, would you? Please, just, <em>please… </em>I don’t know what I want, I’m <em>sorry</em>, but I think I… No, I <em>know</em> I want you to–”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> There was a blur as Aziraphale leaned in suddenly, then a feather-light press of soft lips to a tear-stained cheek. Crowley’s eyes closed, his muscles easing up, and then, just as quickly as it had begun, it was over, and he opened his eyes to find Aziraphale seated across from him as though nothing had happened. Well, except for his sheepish smile.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Ah, sorry,” the angel said after a moment. “I shouldn’t have– I should have let you know I was about to–”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Crowley leaned forward and pressed a somewhat firmer kiss to Aziraphale’s cheek. He didn’t pull away entirely when he was finished, just lingered a few centimeters from the angel’s face and held his gaze. “It’s okay, angel. I liked it.” He leaned back and smiled at Aziraphale, who shook his head.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “No, it isn’t <em>okay</em>, Crowley. You happened to like it, and that’s wonderful, dear, but we’re trying to establish <em>boundaries</em> and I just…” Aziraphale sighed. “This is supposed to be at <em>your</em> pace, Crowley. I’m rather… Well, it’s a bit funny, isn’t it? I’m the one who’d be apt to ‘go too fast’ if you hadn’t said anything.” He let out a little amused chuckle. “We’ve done a bit of a switch, haven’t we?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Crowley felt just a bit <em>dead inside </em>at that revelation, which was why he failed to apply his spare-the-angel’s-feelings filter when he opened his mouth again. “It’s really not funny. It fucking <em>sucks</em>, angel. This fucking <em>sucks</em>! Why can’t we just be ready at the <em>same</em> <em>fucking</em> <em>time</em>?! I waited for you for… For <em>millennia</em>. And now…”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Aziraphale sobered. “And now it’s my turn.” He reached out a hand, not being so bold as to grasp Crowley’s, but simply extending an offering. When the demon nodded and looked away, Aziraphale let his hand come to rest atop his. Crowley’s hand relaxed at the gentle warmth, but he made no effort to meet Aziraphale’s searching eyes. “My dear…” Aziraphale sighed. “What we do from this moment on, whatever boundaries are to be crossed, it will all be up to you, alright? I won’t touch you. I won’t initiate any sort of physical affection at all. If you want anything like that with me, you will have to start it.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> There were a few millennia-long seconds of silence that passed between them before Crowley mumbled, “Well, I don’t wanna cross <em>your</em> boundaries.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Aziraphale offered a fond smile. “Crowley, I <em>assure</em> you, there is no expression of love I am not ready to receive from you at this point.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Crowley tried and failed to hold back a whimper at that. It was silent between them for a few moments before the demon opened his mouth to ask, “What if I decide I want you to touch me, then?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Then you’ll tell me. Whatever you’d like, Crowley, all you need do is ask, my dear.” A somewhat sly smile. “Or you could just…,” he slowed his speech, “take my hand, and… guide it. Wherever you’d like it to go.” Aziraphale cleared his throat, seemingly steering himself away from that train of thought. “Just tell me what you’re ready for when you’re ready for it.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Crowley shook his head. “You’re… You’re gonna get tired of this. You’re gonna resent me.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Aziraphale frowned. “Have you resented me?” he asked gently. “In all the centuries I refused to even acknowledge you as my friend… Do you resent me, Crowley?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Crowley broke down. Again. He considered whipping out a pair of sunglasses, but realized Aziraphale’d already seen the worst of it. No sense in hiding it at this point, he figured. “No,” he cried.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “No. Good. Well, I thought not.” Aziraphale sighed. “Anyway, you’ll not incur any resentment from me. I will be grateful for anything you are willing to give me. Crowley, I would have been grateful simply to have continued as we were. As long as we’re together… Of course I would <em>like</em> to explore other expressions of our love, darling– Oh! I’m sorry, Crowley. It slipped.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “S’okay.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “No, it’s not. We established your boundaries for a reason, and I intend to respect them. It will <em>not</em> happen again,” he said firmly. “Not until you tell me you’re comfortable with it. <em>If</em> you ever reach such a point. You needn’t ever be comfortable with it, Crowley. Please don’t pressure yourself for my sake.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Crowley shook his head. “S’not fair to you. I can’t ask you to hold back like that. I know what it’s like, having to hold back. It’s <em>hard</em>. It does a number on the head, too. Er, heart. Whatever. Messes with you.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Let me worry about that. It’s my responsibility to respect your boundaries, Crowley. It’s my <em>privilege</em>, to be able to love you at all. And I want to love you well, my dear. I will meet you where you are.” Aziraphale smiled. “I’ll give you anything you want, no more, no less.” He tilted his head ever so slightly. “What do you want, Crowley? What can I give you right now? If you want to touch, we can. If you want space, I’ll give you that. If you–”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I…” Crowley swallowed thickly. “I wanna sleep next to you, like we were gonna do. But…” <em>Just don’t touch me</em>, he couldn’t bring himself to say, couldn’t bring himself to accept his nonacceptance of the intimacy he’d craved for so long.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Aziraphale nodded. He glanced down, then back up at Crowley with a twinkle in his eye. “I’ve an idea.” He scrambled to stand at the side of the bed, and motioned for Crowley to join him.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> He did. One snap later, Aziraphale was holding a sword. <em>His</em> sword, Crowley realized. <em>What the hell could he possibly need </em>that<em> for?</em></span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Aziraphale turned the weapon in his hand and ran his gaze over it with a satisfied smile. “This isn’t my real sword, of course, but it <em>is</em> a rather realistic replica, I think.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Mm.” Crowley nodded, looking from the sword to Aziraphale’s eyes. “Could’ve fooled me. ‘Cept it’s not on fire.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “No, that would be rather dangerous for this use.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Crowley cocked a brow. “Which is?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Aziraphale set the sword down in the center of the bed, atop the sheets. “This is my side of the bed,” he said, indicating the space to the sword’s right. Then he gestured at the other side. “That is yours. I will not cross over the sword. Not at all. If you want to cross over, of course, you may. But you have my word,” Aziraphale sought out and held Crowley’s gaze with a smile, “<em>on my sword</em>, I will not cross this boundary.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> The small smile that tugged at Crowley’s lips expanded as he mused, “Chivalry is alive and well in this bedroom this afternoon, isn’t it?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Aziraphale rolled his eyes and moved to slide into bed. “I thought it was romantic.” He pulled the sheets up around his shoulders, careful not to tug too hard on the comforter lest he shift the sword out of place. Then, realizing his previous choice of words with a regretful frown, said, “Oh, I’m sorry, I don’t mean to imply–”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I really don’t think you can backtrack on that, angel,” said Crowley, clearly amused. “That was probably the most undeniably <em>romantic</em> gesture I’ve ever seen. I feel like a character in a Disney movie.” He tilted his head. “Well, if Disney characters fucked. Do they? I mean, they have to, right? Some of ‘em have spinoffs where they’ve got kids. We’ve gotta assume they have sex at some point. We just don’t see those scenes. Or the discussions that led to those scenes.” He walked to the other side of the bed. <em>His</em> side of the bed. “But I’ll bet if Sleeping Beauty was a blushing virgin with her prince, he’d have done the same thing.” A frown. “’Course he <em>is</em> one of those ones that kissed an unconscious girl, isn’t he? Maybe they’re not the best–”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Aziraphale cut off the demon’s rambling with a huff. “Will you just <em>get in the bed</em>?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Crowley got under the sheets with a shit-eating grin and cackled to himself. <em>Good</em>, Aziraphale thought. It was nice to see the demon back to his usual self after so many tears. <em>Still an absolute </em>shit<em>, then.</em></span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Goodnight, angel,” Crowley said through giggles. In reality, it was hardly a few hours past noon, but the demon had snapped the room into darkness just seconds prior.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Goodnight, dear,” said Aziraphale, a fond smile gracing his lips. Then, because he could, “I love you.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Crowley sighed contentedly and mumbled against his pillow, “Love you, too.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> They laid there for exactly nine minutes and six seconds before Crowley blew a puff of air from his dry lips. “Right,” he said, sitting up. He felt around the bed for the sword, took it in hand, and chucked it across the room, wincing only slightly at the sound of it clattering to the floor. “Fuck that thing.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Aziraphale, who’d nearly fallen asleep, jolted where he lay. Then, when his brain caught up with him, merely quirked a brow and said, “Oh?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Don’t, uh… Don’t get <em>too</em> excited, angel, I’m not…” Crowley sucked in a breath. “I’m not ready for a whole lot. I just… Can I…”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Yes.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “You don’t even know what I want.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “The answer is still ‘yes’.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Crowley smirked. “Can I have that slice of cake you brought back from lunch earlier?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Aziraphale huffed, not deigning to answer.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Crowley shifted under the sheets until he could throw an arm over Aziraphale’s chest, and hooked his left leg over the angel’s legs for good measure. “This. This is all I want. Is this okay?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> A sharp intake of breath, then, softly, “Of course, Crowley.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> A few seconds of silence passed before Crowley said, in a tone as uncaring as he could muster, “You could, uh, put your arm around me, you know. F’y’want.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Aziraphale brightened. “I <em>do</em> want, thank you!”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Crowley could hear the smile in Aziraphale’s voice, and fuck if that didn’t make his heart do weird little jumpy things. Then the angel’s arm was draped over his side and Crowley instinctively buried his head in Aziraphale’s shoulder. They seemed to be breathing at the same time, and before Crowley knew it, he’d drifted off in the angel’s embrace.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> He awoke, 15 hours later, just as he’d gone to sleep the afternoon prior. No boundaries crossed in sleep mode, to Crowley’s relief. He sighed and nuzzled against the angel’s shoulder. “Mmph.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Good morning,” Aziraphale said sweetly. He had woken several hours earlier, but elected to stay in bed with the demon, breathing in his scent and reveling at how perfectly their bodies fit together under the sheets.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Crowley lifted his head so he could meet the angel’s gentle gaze. “Good morning, baby.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Aziraphale cocked a brow.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Crowley grimaced. “Yeah, that was weird, wasn’t it?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I may need to make a boundary list of my own, after all.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I was just trying it out. Probably won’t happen again.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Might I get that in writing?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Crowley snorted. “Ah, so it’s ‘good morning, <em>bastard’, </em>then.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Ah, now <em>there’s</em> a lovely term of endearment.” Aziraphale gave Crowley’s back a few pats.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Good morning, <em>bitch</em>?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Aziraphale huffed a laugh. “I think we’d better get up before this gets any worse, dear. Or, demon.” After a thoughtful pause, he tried, “<em>…Dick?</em>”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Crowley quirked a brow. “I’m impressed.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Mm.” Aziraphale sat up and stretched his arms in the air. He yawned for perhaps the first time in his life, which became a frown partway through because, well, he had yawned for the first time in his life. It was a strange sensation, yawning. He glanced down at Crowley, whose arm had fallen from the angel’s chest to his waist. Crowley was looking up at him with heavy-lidded eyes and an adoring grin. “What?” he blushed.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “You’re cute.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Aziraphale blushed, but managed a smirk. “Ah, I see. I can’t call you ‘darling’, but <em>I’m</em> ‘cute’?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Crowley’s face fell, sending a pang of guilt through Aziraphale’s entire body. “Sorry. You can call me that if you want; I’ll deal with it.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Aziraphale dropped his smile and shook his head. “No, that’s not how it works. I was teasing you, Crowley–and too soon, I’m afraid. I apologize.” He threw the sheets off of them, earning a dissatisfied groan from the demon who tightened his embrace around his waist. “Come, now. Up. I’ve just woken from my first real sleep and I’d like to have a proper breakfast.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Crowley shook his head against Aziraphale’s hip. “Nnnh. Five more minutes.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Not likely.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Come on,” Crowley groaned. “Aren’t I more important than breakfast?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Hmm. Not at the moment.” Aziraphale tapped Crowley’s shoulder. He managed to push him down just enough to free his waist, which did him absolutely no good in so far as getting out of bed was concerned. “Release me from your grasp, demon,” he said, his tone exaggerated.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “You can’t escape the clutches of hell.” Crowley coiled himself around the angel’s legs, pressing his cheek to Aziraphale’s thigh and ignoring the sudden thoughts of what that soft, warm flesh might feel like under those pajamas.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Oh, will you <em>let me up</em>?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “What’s the password?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Please?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Crowley shook his head and huffed a laugh against Aziraphale’s leg.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Aziraphale huffed. “Let me go or <em>else.</em>”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Another head shake. “The password’s not a word or phrase. It’s an action, actually.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Are you <em>quite</em> sure you understand the definition of a password?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “See, that’s a question. I said it’s not in words. S’an action.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Oh, <em>you,</em>” Aziraphale huffed.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Mm, s’gotta do with me, yeah.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Well would you clue me in? I’m a bit <em>bound</em>, you know.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Crowley swallowed. “S’a kiss.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Aziraphale cocked a brow and licked his lips. “Oh? And where might this kiss be?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Guess.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Hmm… your cheek?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Crowley shook his head.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Nose?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> A snort.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Neck?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Welp. There went all Crowley’s enthusiasm. Memories of the afternoon prior flooded his mind, and he shuddered against Aziraphale’s legs in a decidedly <em>unhappy</em> way. “No,” he snapped. Really, he was telling his rising anxiety to fuck off, and didn’t mean to scold the angel for his guess. But, seeing as Aziraphale wasn’t a mindreader, and Crowley had just been asked a “yes” or “no” question, that was the best the angel could do with the situation.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Oh, Crowley–oh, <em>fuck. </em>I’m sorry, dear. I shouldn’t have guessed something so intimate.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> So much for a good morning. Crowley was beginning to think that maybe he <em>was</em> a dick, after all. He glanced up from Aziraphale’s lap. “No, angel, I didn’t mean– I wasn’t saying ‘no’ to <em>you</em>. I mean, the answer is ‘no’, but when I said that, I was just– I was reliving a bad memory.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Yesterday,” Aziraphale deduced. At Crowley’s silence, he sighed. “Well, I suppose it’s safe to assume that I no longer need to give you the password. Will you let me up?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “…I wouldn’t say it’s safe to assume anything.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Aziraphale huffed. “Crowley, <em>tell me what you want</em>.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “What I really, really want?” Crowley cursed himself for finding any excuse to snake away from a vulnerable moment. He wasn’t usually like this. He’d always been relatively open with the angel; why was this particular situation so impossible to face head-on?</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Crowley, either tell me what it is that you want, or <em>take it</em> yourself, or let me get up and get on with the day.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Since Crowley was having trouble voicing his needs and wants, but he certainly didn’t want Aziraphale up and away from him without a kiss, he went for the second option. Without another word, in one swift movement, he darted up from Aziraphale’s legs, wrapped his arms around his neck, and pressed his lips to the angel’s.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Aziraphale froze, and Crowley could feel the muscles in the angel’s body tense against him. He didn’t kiss back, didn’t slip his tongue out for a taste, didn’t put his hands in Crowley’s hair… It was <em>terrible</em>.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> But, what had Crowley expected? He’d had a panic attack the last time–the <em>first</em> time–they’d done this. He’d pushed himself off of the angel and they’d gone through an entire conversation of what was and wasn’t gonna freak him out. And, oh, yeah. Right. Aziraphale had promised not to touch him. Had sworn not to cross any boundaries.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Of <em>course</em> he didn’t know what to do with his hands. Of <em>course</em> his soft mouth went thin against Crowley’s. Of <em>course</em> he whimpered, his lower lip beginning to tremble. Of <em>course</em> he was crying! Oh, wait, what? <em>Shit</em>.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Crowley pulled back, the “kiss” ending not five seconds after it started. “Fuck,” he said. “Fuck, I’m sorry.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Aziraphale blinked himself back into the moment. “I… It’s quite alright, only I–”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “It’s not alright! You’re <em>crying</em>!”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Am I?” Aziraphale sniffled, bringing a hand up to wipe the corners of his eyes. “Ah. Well, I don’t know what came over me.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I fucking <em>ruined</em> <em>everything</em> is what came over you. I freaked out on you the last time we kissed and now you’re always gonna be waiting for me to freak out again. I ruined kissing!”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Well, I… I don’t know about <em>that</em>.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I do! It’s all over your face, angel!” Crowley swore, dropping his head to Aziraphale’s shoulder.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “It’s alright, dear. I’ll get past it.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Crowley huffed a broken laugh against the angel’s shirt. “Oh, we’re a mess, you and me. We’re a fucking mess.” Then, bitterly, “<em>I’m</em> a fucking mess. You’re just messed up because of <em>my</em> mess.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Oh, <em>do</em> shut up. I’m growing tired of hearing you berate the love of my life.” Aziraphale brought a hand up to pat Crowley’s back, but dropped it back to his side upon remembering his promise. “I said I’ll get past it and I will. And so will you. You were ready to kiss me again and it’s hardly been a day since your panic attack. See? All in good time, my dear.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “You could have kissed back, you know,” said Crowley, lifting his head from Aziraphale’s shoulder to look him in the eye. “If I kiss you, you have permission to kiss back.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I’ll… remember that.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Crowley swallowed. “So, are you… I mean, would you be ready to try again?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Aziraphale smiled. “I’m ready if you are.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Crowley beamed, then leaned forward and pressed his lips to Aziraphale’s, who pressed back in matching strength. They tilted their heads, trying different angles, and Crowley even dared to nip at the angel’s lower lip, which earned him a pleased gasp.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Aziraphale’s hands clenched the sheets so tightly his knuckles went white. Crowley noticed. “You can touch me, angel,” he breathed. “Please touch me.” Quickly, he added, “Just, from the waist up.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Those nervous hands sprang to life in a split second, roaming Crowley’s back and then grasping at his shoulders. One slid down to tease the hem of his shirt, but returned to its previous position when Crowley said, “C-Can you stay above the fabric?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Of course, dear.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Can you use your tongue again, like the first time?” Crowley asked, breathing heavily against Aziraphale’s mouth. “Please? Wanna taste it.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Aziraphale gave an affirmative moan and darted his tongue out to prod between the demon’s lips. Crowley let him in and groaned at the sudden expansion of warmth in his mouth. Aziraphale danced his tongue around Crowley’s, his little moans landing in the demon’s throat.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Crowley pulled back, breathing deeply, and made sure to meet Aziraphale’s gaze as he assured him, “That was perfect, angel.” He shifted. “I think I need to stop, though. Getting too, uh, excited. Can’t deal with that right now. I’m s–”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “So good,” Aziraphale corrected before the demon had even finished his apology. “You’re so very good, my dear.” He rubbed small circles on Crowley’s back. “Now, shall we get up, then?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Yeah.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Wanting to make use of the new flat’s kitchen, Aziraphale decided on a breakfast of pancakes topped with a variety of fresh fruit. Most of the ingredients were whipped out of thin air, which brought a smirk to Crowley’s face. <em>Cheater</em>. The angel had also conjured up an apron over his pajamas. It was mainly beige and black, adorned with little stripes of pale blue and red, and Crowley couldn’t help but blush at the bold mixture of their signature colors.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Won’t you try some?” Aziraphale set a plate down in front of the demon, who’d been contentedly watching the angel cook from his seat at the little bistro table they’d put in the breakfast nook. The sunlight coming in through the window made Aziraphale’s white-blonde curls look damn-near translucent in some places, and Crowley couldn’t help the way his unnecessary heart swelled at the sight.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Blinking himself back into the moment, Crowley looked down at the plate offered to him, and smiled. “You know I don’t eat much, angel.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Indulge me?” Aziraphale sat across from him at the table, licking his lips at his own plate. “Besides, I need you to critique my cooking efforts. I really haven’t dabbled in the culinary arts as much as you might think. If you could note any room for improvement…”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Well, I haven’t dabbled in <em>partaking</em> of the culinary… whatever, y’know, so. I don’t think my advice’ll be worth much.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Well, even so,” Aziraphale gestured at the demon’s plate. “Please.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Crowley glanced back down at the pancakes in front of him. Three, stacked perfectly, topped off with a mixture of fresh berries and a sprinkling of icing sugar. It actually looked pretty appetizing, he had to admit. Especially for the angel’s first real attempt at cooking.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> He took his fork in hand, stabbed at the dish, making sure to get a couple berries in the bite, and brought it to his lips. It was <em>good</em>. Perfectly sweet, with some tartness from the berries. Bit like the chef, himself, Crowley realized, swallowing his smirk along with the food.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Then it hit him. <em>Fuck</em>. Aziraphale had cooked something for him. It was all so domestic. Everything Crowley had ever wanted with the angel, and yet…</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Crowley heaved a sigh and pushed the plate forward on the table until it was just out of his reach, then retreated his hands to his chest and looked out the window.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> After a moment, he heard a small voice say, “…Is it… Is my cooking <em>that</em> bad?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Crowley felt a bit bad for huffing a laugh at that. He shook his head and turned back to look at the angel with the best smile he could manage at the time. “It’s not that–it’s good, angel, it’s <em>great</em>. It’s just…”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Aziraphale seemed to understand, and nodded, his mouth taking the shape of a little “ah”.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I’m sorry.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Crowley,” Aziraphale warned.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I <em>am</em>. I’m sorry I can’t appreciate what you’re trying to share with me. I mean, I appreciate, uh, the gesture, but, I just can’t…”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “It’s too much,” Aziraphale nodded, then sighed. “It’s quite alright. I simply won’t cook for two in the future.” A pause, then, hesitantly, “Would you still… care to sit with me while I eat?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Crowley gave a soft smile. “Yeah.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> And so he did. He watched Aziraphale mindfully devour his first proper breakfast, then reach for Crowley’s plate and give it the same luxurious treatment, because, really, he wouldn’t want it to go to <em>waste</em>.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Crowley was starting to feel a bit normal again at that. Just like old times. Nothing new, nothing out of the ordinary. Save, of course, for the rising need to launch himself across the table and lick the remnants of berries and sugar from the angel’s lips. Oh, that desire wasn’t new, really. He’d been yearning for the freedom to have that kind of contact with Aziraphale for longer than he could keep track of. The difference was, he finally <em>had</em> that freedom. And, well, as the pair had come to discover the day previous, he really didn’t know how to handle it.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Licking Aziraphale’s mouth unprompted didn’t seem bearable at the moment. Too much, too soon. He’d enjoyed the kiss they’d shared earlier that morning, but to just… leap directly into such passion… Crowley felt his chest tighten at the thought of it. No, he realized, he needed to start with something smaller. Lighter. Less likely to make him, ah, <em>wet</em>, he realized with a grimace.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Aziraphale…,” Crowley’s small voice earned a concerned frown from the angel. “Can you… I want…” What <em>did</em> he want?</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Aziraphale raised his brows just so, his voice gently matching Crowley’s in volume as he asked, “Yes?” When the demon merely shifted uncomfortably, Aziraphale straightened himself and reached his hand partway across the table to get Crowley’s attention. “You needn’t be afraid to ask for anything from me, dear.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I know,” Crowley said, his voice a bit forced, a bit rushed. “I know, I just…,” a sharp inhale of breath, “I don’t know what I want, exactly.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Is it… physical?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Crowley, despite himself, gave a small snort. “Yeah, just… A kiss, I think.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Aziraphale gulped. “Oh? Where?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “That’s what I’m trying to figure out.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Aziraphale nodded slowly, glancing back down at his empty plates. He stood, then, and gathered the dishes in his hands. “Well, while you think about it, I’m going to wash these.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Crowley breathed a sigh of relief. Having the angel sit awkwardly, waiting for him to figure his shit out… Well, he felt quite a bit more relaxed with Aziraphale focusing his attention elsewhere. The angel kept his back turned to him as he busied himself at the sink, and Crowley sent a silent thanks up to Somebody for letting him have a… friend, or whatever, who was so patient with him.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> As soon as Aziraphale seemed finished with the dishes, Crowley commanded his attention by saying, with a forced air of indifference, “You can kiss me on the forehead.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Aziraphale turned to face him, a soft smile spreading over his berry-stained lips. He pat his hands dry on his apron, and approached the table.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Or, here,” Crowley brought a hand up to indicate his right and then his left temple. “Or the top of my head. If my hair doesn’t bother your lips.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Aziraphale beamed. “Oh! Wonderful.” He cleared his throat, bringing his enthusiasm down a few notches. “Ah, when? Now?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Crowley shrugged. “F’y’want. Whenever you want, really.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> That wide smile won out over Aziraphale’s self-restraint, and in a moment he leaned down from where he stood beside Crowley’s chair and pressed a chaste kiss to the demon’s left temple, then his right, then the middle of his forehead, and topped it all off with a kiss to his hair. He pulled back to look the demon in the eye, searching him for any sign of regret at the permission given him. He found none. His soft, uncertain gaze was met with gentle amber, and he noted the way Crowley’s mouth twitched upward at the corners ever so slightly. “Thank you,” he breathed, letting himself come to rest on his knees in front of the demon.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Anytime, angel.” Crowley allowed his smile to widen. “Really. Those spots are yours, whenever you want.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Aziraphale beamed. Then, “Would you like me to ask you first? Before each kiss, I mean? In case you change your mind?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Aziraphale’s hesitancy to dive right in whenever he pleased sent a jolt of guilt through Crowley. And something warmer. Something that made him feel safe, comfortable. Loved. That warmth only made the guilt double; that he would have the angel so careful with him, treating him like he was so fragile when he <em>knew</em> Aziraphale <em>wanted more.</em> He sucked in a breath, and, then, because it was true, said, “I won’t change my mind.” Then, because he realized he couldn’t really <em>trust</em> <em>himself</em> to <em>know</em> that would remain true, added, “How about if you tell me?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Aziraphale’s brows furrowed.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Like, before you’re gonna kiss me. Just… let me know? Don’t surprise me with it, I guess, is what I mean.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Aziraphale’s frown blossomed into a smile once more. “Of course, my dear. No surprises.” He stood, then, and asked, “May I kiss your forehead once more, then?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Crowley sent a pointed look at the angel. <em>What did I </em>just<em> tell you?</em></span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Ah. Yes. Right.” Aziraphale sort of wiggled where he stood, looking delightfully excited and yet somehow still seeming to be wearing a cloak of nervousness. “I’m going to kiss your forehead, then.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Crowley couldn’t fight the grin that broke out on his face when the angel determinedly leaned down and soft lips met weary skin. The kiss was a bit more firm this time, more confident, more sure. Crowley melted into the warmth of it, slumping in his chair. He found his hands on either side of the angel’s face, and before he knew it, he’d pulled Aziraphale lower, lower, until those gentle lips locked with his own. He could taste the sweetness of the angel’s breakfast, and pressed his tongue at the crease of his mouth, asking for more.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Aziraphale let him in, and moaned around the demon’s tongue. Crowley startled, and nearly pulled himself back, but Aziraphale beat him to it. “I’m sorry. I… I will try to restrain myself from making any, um, well, unseemly noises.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “It’s okay, angel, just startled me, is all.” Crowley slid his hands down to Aziraphale’s shoulders and rubbed at them gently. “I like the sounds you make.” He shifted, suddenly uncomfortable in his seat. “Maybe a bit too much, though. I can’t… I’m not ready for…”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Well, that’s why I suggested that I should keep, erm, rather quiet, when you kiss me.” Aziraphale sighed. “I know you want to keep things chaste. I shouldn’t be getting so worked up, really. I do apologize, my dear.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Aziraphale. I licked into your mouth. M’not keeping things entirely chaste, here, myself, am I?” Crowley smirked, and slid his hands down further, to rub at the outside of the angel’s biceps. “I just need to be careful. Y’know, not to let myself get too, uh, worked up, y’know, below the belt.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “<em>We</em>. <em>We</em> need to be careful.” Aziraphale sighed. “I don’t want to be feeling any more, ah, arousal than you are at any given moment.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Crowley gave a sympathetic frown. “You can’t really help that, angel.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I can certainly try.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Y’shouldn’t have to,” Crowley mumbled, his gaze suddenly downcast, his arms falling to his sides as his lips decided to remind him of just how lonely they were. He wanted to pull Aziraphale back in, feel the warmth of his mouth against his own once more, but didn’t want to risk being turned on before he was prepared to properly deal with it. “Shouldn’t have to wait for me to catch up with all this…”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Aziraphale lifted the demon’s chin, then dropped his hand back to his side and gave him an apologetic look before saying, “Crowley, I need you to understand that you are worth it. You are worth the pace, however slow, however fast. You are <em>worth</em> waiting for.” A fond smile graced the angel’s lips as he continued, “And really, I’m not waiting, am I? I have you. And I am content to have you in whatever capacity you are comfortable with. Do you understand me, Crowley?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Crowley merely nodded to himself. He understood the words coming out of the angel’s mouth. They formed perfectly coherent sentences. They just didn’t feel true. Or maybe it was just that Crowley didn’t <em>let</em> them feel true. Didn’t accept them. Couldn’t.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I’m… I’m going to kiss the top of your head, now.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Crowley shook his head and slumped further in his seat. “I don’t deserve it.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> A tired, near-whimper of a sigh. “Oh, <em>Crowley</em>…”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <em>Poor bastard</em>, Crowley thought. If he was really so intent on patiently loving the demon, Aziraphale really had his work cut out for him.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>These chapters won't always end so sadly, I promise. Also, Crowley is not a role model right now alright y'all. LOVE YOURSELLLLLF.</p><p>I realize that Crowley could easily be called out of character throughout this story. But that’s what anxiety does; it can make us act out of character. That’s why it’s so frustrating, why we often carry so much shame with it, because it doesn’t feel like <i>us</i>.</p><p>I want to give a realistic example of how anxiety and insecurity can manifest together, when we’re least expecting it. When you think you know what you want, and suddenly find yourself incapable of handling it when you finally have the chance to get it, because you've built it up so much in your mind. I want to examine what happens when your anxious ways make you feel like a burden to the people who love you most. You’re not, of <i>course</i> you’re not. But, as Crowley finds, and I’m sure many can relate to, it’s not so easy to convince yourself otherwise when you’re in the thick of it. Thank Somebody for the people (and angels) who are prepared to love and support us no matter what.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>It's been 84 years. World's in a weird place and so am I. But here ya go. This chapter is from Aziraphale's POV.</p><p><b>Content Notice:</b> Crowley pushes himself to do something he's not ready for yet. Aziraphale stops him upon realizing it, but Crowley has already crossed his own boundary and is a bit shaken up by it.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Aziraphale surprised himself. He was getting into the habit of doing that since playing his part in averting Armageddon, he realized.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> He’d surprised himself when he’d invited Crowley back to his place after their lunch at the Ritz. He’d surprised himself when he’d suggested Crowley help him put together the upstairs flat, and surprised himself even more when he’d so confidently suggested that the demon would be visiting regularly. He’d surprised himself when he’d prompted Crowley to lie next to him, to rest and recover from the stress of the past week. Or, eleven years. Their entire lives up to that day, really. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Then Crowley had surprised <em>him</em>. He’d <em>leaned</em>. He’d invaded his space in a most welcome way, and Aziraphale had taken the invitation and <em>kissed</em> him. He’d slipped his tongue between demonic lips, savored the taste of him. He’d tugged on his hair and attempted to leave marks on Crowley’s neck, sucking on the demon’s skin as though it were his new favorite dessert. (It was.) He’d even felt himself grow aroused, and made no attempt to hide it.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> And then it’d all been over.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Crowley had pulled away. Crowley had panicked. Crowley had wept. And it broke Aziraphale’s heart, not at the loss of that warm body against his own, not at the sudden lack of fiery taste in his mouth, but at the sight of his dearest friend and might’ve-been-lover in such distress. And there was nothing he could do about it, though he tried to soothe the demon’s nerves. He’d helped him calm down enough to get some rest, at least, and then had a decent breakfast with him the next morning–until Crowley had suffered another near-breakdown.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> What surprised Aziraphale the most, he realized, was how… how <em>fine</em> he was doing, really. Oh, of course, there was a part of him that ached to be able to pour his love on the demon. To pepper him with kisses and whisper sweet nothings in his ear. He’d have been fully intimate with Crowley that evening if the demon had been up for it. But he hadn’t been, <em>he</em> <em>still wasn’t</em>, Aziraphale reminded himself, and he may never be. And yes, he’d be fooling himself if he tried to say that he wouldn’t absolutely <em>jump</em> at the opportunity for more, if given permission. But he would manage if that opportunity never came along. He would be content.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> He <em>loved</em> Crowley. He truly did consider it a blessing to be able to love the demon at all. It wasn’t <em>ideal</em>, of course. There were things he wished he could do, things he wished he could say, but Crowley wasn’t comfortable with that, and Aziraphale couldn’t be certain whether he ever would be. And wasn’t that what love was? Compromise? Meeting your loved ones where they are, sacrificing some of your own desires in order to love them the way they need to be loved?</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> And so he did. Aziraphale would have tied his own hands behind his back if he needed to in order to keep from crossing any of Crowley’s boundaries. Of course, he didn’t need to. He had several thousand years of practice in the art of self-restraint. Still, he ached to shower the demon in his affection. He just had to figure out the best way to go about it without sending his beloved into a panic.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> He approached the subject carefully, over a cup of tea one afternoon. It had been nearly a week since it had all happened, and Crowley hadn’t left the shop once. They’d fallen into a comfortable routine of sleeping in the same bed every evening. Aziraphale had never had much interest in sleep, but nothing could hold his interest more than the feeling of settling into fresh, cozy sheets with the love of his life, and waking beside him every morning.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Crowley seemed to enjoy watching Aziraphale experiment with breakfast when they woke. Then, Aziraphale would run his shop as usual, and Crowley would hang out in the back until closing time (which seemed to get earlier and earlier each day). Occasionally he’d come to the front of the store to assist Aziraphale in dissuading some persistent customers from buying books, likely leaving a few of them just a bit traumatized. Then he’d return to the back of the shop as if he hadn’t just gone full-serpent and slithered out from behind the shelves, and muse over the angel’s more questionable collections.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Why do you have an entire shelf dedicated witchcraft and Satanism, angel?” Crowley dropped his voice to that low, suggestive tone that drove Aziraphale mad in all the best and worst ways at once. “Don’t tell me you’ve been <em>dabbling</em>.” He smirked as the angel sputtered around his beverage.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Of- Of course not! I’m merely collecting them for the prestige of it all.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Crowley snorted, leaning back against the sofa and resting his arms behind his head. “Prestige… Satanism… Right. Okay.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Crowley,” Aziraphale started, setting his teacup down on his cluttered desk and shifting in his chair, “how would you feel about gifts?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Hm?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Aziraphale worried at his bottom lip, opened his mouth a few times, then, finally, “If I wanted to get you something, would that be alright?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Crowley frowned. “We’ve been getting each other gifts for centuries, angel.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Aziraphale nodded. “Yes, but this is a slightly different context.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Crowley blew out a puff of air. “I mean, you can get me stuff, yeah, just–You know, don’t go through any trouble on my a–”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Excuse me, but I will <em>gladly</em> go through trouble to spoil my… Well, you.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Crowley blushed and folded in on himself, pulling his knees to his chest as his arms came down to hug them. “Fine,” he grumbled.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Aziraphale gave a satisfied smile, his eyes twinkling as he said, “Thank you.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “What the hell are you thanking me for? You’re thanking me for letting you spoil me?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Yes. I am. Thank you,” he repeated. He stood and approached the sofa with a gentle, grateful smile. “I’m going to kiss your forehead now.” And he did. And he reveled in the blush it inspired on Crowley’s cheeks.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “You don’t…” Crowley sucked in a breath, then let it out, and letting his entire body relax as he did. He slumped back on the sofa and avoided eye contact with the angel in front of him. “Ah… You don’t have to tell me when you’re gonna do that.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Aziraphale frowned as he moved back to sit in his chair. “I thought you’d said-”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Yeah, I’d <em>said</em>. I can change my mind, can’t I?” Crowley said, not quite snapping but sounding a tad annoyed nonetheless.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Aziraphale nodded, eyes wide. “Oh, of course! But it’s just so <em>soon</em>, you know, I’d expected-”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “You’re starting to sound like you <em>want</em> to have to tell me every time you kiss me.” Crowley smirked.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Well, I mean, it’s not <em>that… </em>I just don’t want you to rush yourself to adjust to things if you’re not truly <em>ready</em>.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Well, I’m not rushing. I’m ready.” Crowley sighed. “For unannounced forehead kisses, at least. Alright?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Aziraphale beamed. “Alright.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> They’d gone about the rest of the day as usual. That is, Crowley remained in the back, playing mobile games and cursing under his breath every time he accidentally clicked on an ad.<a href="#note1" id="note1back" name="note1back"><sup>1</sup></a> The shop closed at 4:04 PM on the dot, and Aziraphale ushered Crowley upstairs to watch him cook an early dinner.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> They sat at the bistro table and mused over their past, the current state of humanity, and what it all might mean for the future. It all felt like old times. Only, Aziraphale wasn’t entirely present. He was thinking about <em>another</em> sort of present.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> He’d been delighted when Crowley had given him the green light on gift-getting. Then he’d realized he had absolutely no idea what to get him.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Crowley had always been wonderful with gifts. He’d brought Aziraphale a box of chocolates to celebrate his shop opening. He’d given him a bottle of wine on many occasions (though that usually turned into a gift for the both of them, which Aziraphale was more than happy with). He’d even given him the angel wing mugs he used for his cocoa. (He’d presented it as a joke at the time, and Aziraphale had responded in kind with an annoyed “tsk”, but he treasured those mugs more than any other dish set in his home–and he had some rather exquisite gold-dipped china in his cabinet.)</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Aziraphale was easy, he supposed. He would always be happy to receive gifts of food, drink, or even something that hinted at his angelic nature (though he wasn’t quite sure how well that aesthetic fit him now that he’d effectively rebelled against the order of Heaven).</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> What would Crowley like? What did he enjoy? He didn’t eat much. Wine seemed a bit overdone. Music? He liked bebop, right? Oh, no, that wasn’t it–he’d practically been lectured on that. He supposed he could go to the music store a few blocks down and ask for assistance. Oh, but that would feel like defeat, asking a stranger for gift advice as though he were some neglectful husband desperate to make up for cheating on his wife. No, that wouldn’t do.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Crowley had also done many acts of service for the angel, which Aziraphale filed under “gifts”. Turning Hamlet into a success was one. Saving his books during the Blitz was another. He’d miracled his coat clean not too long ago, and had offered to let him sleep at his flat on the night of the would-be apocalypse. Aziraphale pondered whether he could do anything nice like that for Crowley, as a gift, but quickly realized anything he’d do for him would need to be pre-approved, lest it cross any of the demon’s boundaries, and he’d really rather this gift be a surprise. Another time, then.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Plants! Aziraphale had only been to Crowley’s flat once, just over a week ago, and they’d both been too worried about interpreting Agnes Nutter’s last prophecy for Crowley to bother with a tour. But Crowley had mentioned on several occasions before heading home after their meetings over the past century or so that he had to “take care of” his plants. It had always warmed Aziraphale’s heart to know the demon looked after those beautiful living creatures with such devotion.<a href="#note2" id="note2back" name="note2back"><sup>2</sup></a></span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Yes, a plant might do it. (Aziraphale wasn’t exactly sure what he wanted it to “do”, but he hoped it’d involve a smile from the plant’s new caretaker.)</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Aziraphale settled into bed that evening with a satisfied smile, pressing a kiss to Crowley’s forehead before drifting off to sleep.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> When Aziraphale woke the next morning, Crowley had rolled over on top of him in his sleep, his head on the angel’s right shoulder, hair tickling his cheek, and his arms up on either side of his head. Part of him wanted to gently urge the demon off of him, to avoid any panic if he should decide upon waking that he really wasn’t ready for that much contact. Another part of him, however, was extremely excited at this turn of events, and quickly hardened under the weight of Crowley’s hip. <em>Oh, no, no, no,</em> he panicked.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> His predicament only worsened as Crowley stirred. He felt the demon shift atop him, then heard him suck in a sharp breath. With no small amount of guilt, Aziraphale mumbled out an apology and moved to gently push Crowley off of him. But before he could, Crowley’s hands caught his wrists, and brought them back to his sides.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “S’fine,” Crowley said in a barely-audible whisper. He moved his left hand from where it rested around Aziraphale’s wrist and let it run up and down his side, while his right hand came up to grip Aziraphale’s left shoulder. “D’you… want me to take care of it?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Aziraphale felt himself become fully erect at the thought. <em>Yes</em>, he thought. But, “Do you… <em>want</em> to… take care of it?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Crowley gave an affirmative grunt. “Want you to feel good.” He breathed, “Let me touch you, angel.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I-If you’re sure…” Aziraphale quite quickly realized that wasn’t the most effective way of getting Crowley to be honest with him. “Really, Crowley, I don’t want you to do anything you’re not fully prepared to do.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Can only prepare so much for something you’ve never done.” Crowley tightened his grip on Aziraphale’s shoulder, clinging to it as though he were walking with wobbly knees and needed to be steadied. The other hand continued rubbing the angel’s side, his thumb brushing over skin where Aziraphale’s pajama shirt had ridden up just a bit. “At some point you’ve gotta just… dive in,” he said as he slid his hand entirely under the fabric of the angel’s shirt and ran it up to his chest, brushing his thumb over a hardening nipple.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “…Crowley,” Aziraphale whimpered. “I–I… I… Are you–”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Crowley shushed him, and nodded against his shoulder. “‘M sure. I can do this for you,” he said as his hand traveled lower, lower, until it came to rest on Aziraphale’s hip. “I can handle it.” With that, he dipped his fingers below the waistband of the angel’s pajamas and brushed them against the top of his leaking cock.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Aziraphale gasped, then managed to say, “I-I don’t want you to <em>handle</em> it, Crowley, I want you to be <em>enthusiastic,</em> or–<em>Oh!</em>–or, or not d-do it at all!”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Crowley had wrapped his hand fully around Aziraphale’s length while the angel was mid-sentence, and began stroking him at a leisurely pace. “I’ve got you, angel. S’fine. I’m… M’gonna make you feel good.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Crowley,” Aziraphale said, in a gently warning tone, despite the whimper that sat on the edge of his lips. “You don’t have to–Oh, <em>fuck</em>!”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Crowley tightened his grip and started stroking him faster, faster, until Aziraphale couldn’t keep from moaning. Crowley kept his head firmly pressed against the angel’s shoulder, which only furthered Aziraphale’s concern.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Crowley, look at me,” Aziraphale demanded through shaky breath.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Bit busy right now.” Crowley shifted until he could latch his mouth onto the crook of the angel’s neck, and started sucking on the soft skin there. He continued stroking Aziraphale’s cock with one hand and clung desperately to his shoulder with the other. “Feel good?” he whispered against freshly bruised skin.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “<em>Crowley</em>. I– I don’t think you’re really enjoying this.” Aziraphale himself was having a hard time enjoying it, despite the new and exciting physical sensations coursing through his body. He’d been aroused plenty of times before, most often as a direct result of the demon’s company, but he’d never ventured so far as to <em>do</em> anything about it. It’d always seemed too dangerous, before. He’d been worried enough about Heaven finding out about his relationship with Crowley; he hadn’t wanted to be quite literally caught with his pants down. But now they were free to do as they pleased. Only, Crowley had sounded so tight-lipped when he’d spoken to him, and wouldn’t lift his head to look at him.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> If only the circumstances would allow for Aziraphale to let go, to immerse himself in what might have been a blissful moment. He felt tears form at the corners of his eyes as he swallowed thickly. It hurt to have to stop him, but it would hurt more to allow him to continue when it seemed that he was only pretending to want it. “Crowley,” he whispered, bringing a hand up to rub at the demon’s back. “You’re– Please, you’re not–”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “This isn’t about me,” Crowley snapped, then nipped at Aziraphale’s neck.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Well, that did it. Aziraphale all but growled as he grabbed Crowley’s wrist and yanked it out of his pajamas. “It <em>is</em> about you! It’s about the <em>both</em> of us!” Crowley startled, sucked in a sharp breath, and then Aziraphale was almost certain he heard a whimper from the demon. He softened his voice, and sighed. “Just. Sit up, please.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Crowley sniffled against Aziraphale’s shoulder and shook his head.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “My dear… Please, look at me.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Can’t.” A broken whimper. “I fucked up.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Aziraphale broke at the weak sound of Crowley’s voice. “Oh, Crowley…”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I thought maybe if I just… forced myself, I’d, I-I-I don’t know, adjust as we went along, and then you wouldn’t have to wait, and we’d be alright.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “We <em>are</em> alright! Or, rather, we <em>were</em>, until you–” Aziraphale took a deep breath and lowered his voice, but held the stern tone. “Crowley, I don’t want you to <em>ever</em> do anything like that again if you’re only doing it for my sake. Do you understand me? <em>Never</em> again!”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Crowley gave a somber nod.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Aziraphale lifted the demon’s head and sought his gaze. “Promise me, Crowley!”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Crowley kept his teary eyes fixed on the mark he’d left on Aziraphale’s neck. “Fine.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Crowley.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Fine!” Crowley shut his eyes. “I promise. I won’t try to make you happy.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I <em>am</em> happy simply for being with you, Crowley. I don’t need you to <em>touch</em> me in order to– Oh, my dear, please– Please don’t cry.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Too late. Crowley was fully sobbing, clinging to Aziraphale’s shoulders for dear life. He dropped his head to the angel’s chest and shook his head. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, angel, I’m sorry. I’m so <em>stupid</em>. I’m s–”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Shhh,” Aziraphale comforted, moving his hand in small circles on Crowley’s back. “Shhh, dear, it’s alright. Please don’t berate yourself. You’re no worse than I am, you know. I should have miracled my, ah, condition away immediately upon waking. I should never have allowed you the opportunity to put yourself in that position in the first place.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Crowley shook his head. “You shouldn’t have to perform a <em>miracle</em> on your body just because <em>I</em> can’t handle its natural responses to–<em>Fuck</em>, you shouldn’t have to–<em>F-fuck</em>,” he sobbed.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Perhaps,” Aziraphale began gently, “it would be best if we didn’t sleep so close together. I don’t need sleep the way you seem to, anyway. Maybe I ought to go back to my usual routine of reading downstairs in the evenings and let you sleep up here if you wish to rest. For the time being, anyway.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> For a moment, it seemed that Crowley had stopped crying. Then the small, sporadic shudder of his back under Aziraphale’s hands led the angel to realize that he was crying <em>harder</em>, so deeply he’d gone silent in his weeping.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “…Crowley?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “<em>Why do I have to be like this?</em>” Crowley wailed. “I’ve fantasized about taking you in my hand, making you come, for <em>centuries</em>,” he admitted, his voice going more frantic with each word. “I’ve wanted you in my <em>mouth</em>, t-touched myself to thoughts of you moaning, coming– Wh-why, <em>why</em> can’t I just– <em>Why</em>–”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Shhh, Crowley, hush, dear. It’s alright,” Aziraphale soothed, continuing to stroke the demon’s back. It occurred to him then that such touching was perhaps a breach of boundaries, and he forced himself to still his hands and bring them to his sides, opting instead to comfort merely with his words. “It’s alright, my dear. Fantasy is… Well, it’s not quite the same as reality, is it? There are so many other factors to consider that you couldn’t possibly have prepared yourself for in fantasy. It’s perfectly reasonable that it might feel like it’s all too much when something you’ve only ever dreamt of comes true.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Crowley barked a humorless laugh and sniffled against Aziraphale’s chest. He’d wetted the angel’s shirt right through with his tears, and apologized for doing so as he rolled off of him and sat up on his knees beside him.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Oh, you needn’t apologize for that. I’ll always lend you my shoulder to cry on.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Shouldn’t have to.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Crowley,” said Aziraphale, his voice stern but his eyes soft. Then, he sighed, and shifted until he was sat up straight against the headboard. “Listen, dear. I don’t know what to tell you. I don’t think there’s anything I can say that can… that can help you over this… this obstacle. This seems to be a battle that only you can fight, dear one.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> The tears started back up, and Crowley looked down at his hands, one of which was still sticky with angelic pre-come, and he grimaced.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Following the demon’s weary and distracted gaze, Aziraphale nodded shortly to himself, snapped his fingers, and cleaned up the mess. “Right. There. Now, will you listen to me, dear?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Crowley nodded, not lifting his gaze from his hands. Aziraphale decided not to push him to meet his gaze, but that didn’t stop him from tilting his head downward and seeking out those amber eyes himself.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Crowley, as I was saying… This conflict you’re facing… Only you can overcome it, you know.” He was quick to add, albeit with a heavy heart, “Assuming, of course, that you <em>want</em> to–”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Of course I bloody want to!” Crowley finally looked up at him, the skin around his eyes wet and puffy, tear streaks evident on his reddened cheeks. “Of <em>course</em> I want to,” he repeated, quieter, as if to himself.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Aziraphale gave a patient smile. “Well, I certainly hope so. But I don’t want you to pressure yourself, if you should find that you don’t want, um, <em>certain</em> things.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I… I do. I <em>know</em> I do. I just… I’m not…”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Ready, hm, yes. Clearly, as we’ve just seen.” Aziraphale drew in a shaky breath, then let it out. “Well, all in good time. You’ll work your way through these, these complicated emotions. But you don’t have to do it entirely alone. I’ll be here to help in whatever way I can. If– If you need to talk, to help you process things. Or if you just want me to listen. If you just want to be <em>held</em>, my dear, I’ll– I’ll hold you through it.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> It was silent a moment before Crowley whispered, “I don’t deserve you.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Don’t.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Crowley shook his head, staring absently at his hands. “I don’t.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Crowley,” Aziraphale sighed, throwing the sheets off of him and throwing his legs over the side of the bed, “do <em>not</em>. You are absolutely <em>perfect</em> to me, do you understand?” He threw a loving glance over his shoulder, which went unnoticed by the partially-dissociating demon.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Not really, no.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Aziraphale sighed as he stood and turned to face Crowley, who remained frozen where he sat in the middle of the bed. He at least made eye contact with him, which prompted a soft smile from the angel. “Well, you will. One day. But until then, you’re going to have to take my word for it. And don’t even <em>think</em> about arguing with me on this particular issue at the moment because I am quite frankly not in the mood.” He looked down at his half-erect cock and banished every ounce of arousal left in it with a miraculous thought.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Crowley, who’d followed the angel’s downward gaze, swore. “Fuck, you didn’t even… You didn’t even get to come.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “That is the <em>least</em> of my concerns right now, dear.” He leaned back over the bed to where Crowley was still sitting. “Forehead,” he warned, and then pressed a kiss to the worried lines of the demon’s head. He turned his back to him, then, and got dressed with a miracle. “Now, I was going to try out a new recipe for breakfast, but I’ve got to pick something up for a dearly deserving demon, and I’d much rather do that right now.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Crowley groaned. “Angel, don’t get me anything. Not after all that. I don’t–” Aziraphale turned around to shoot a warning glare at him, and the protest died in his throat.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Mmhmm.” Aziraphale adjusted his bowtie with a small smirk, and turned back away from the demon. “You see, we’re going at your pace, of course, but there is a difference between you not being ready for something, which I will of course respect, and you withholding something nice for yourself simply because you’ve some ridiculous notion that you don’t deserve it. I will <em>not</em> respect <em>that</em>. Not even a bit. I will not enable you to be unkind to yourself.” He gave a determined nod. “You’ve given me permission to give you a gift, and a gift you shall receive.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Ng, unh, n–Fine. I’ll allow it.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Good.” Aziraphale beamed as he moved toward the door. “I’ll be back in, oh, less than an hour? Don’t go anywhere.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> He heard Crowley let out an amused scoff just as he closed the door behind him. Good, then. He seemed to have recovered from the events of the morning well enough.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Aziraphale, though. Aziraphale was struggling.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> It had nothing to do with his cock. No, sexual frustration was at the very bottom of his list of struggles. (And, really, as someone who had yet to experience his first orgasm, he didn’t know what he was missing, anyway.) It wasn’t even about what sort of plant to get Crowley; he knew exactly what he was looking for as he entered the local plant nursery. More or less. What Aziraphale was struggling with was how to handle his dear demon with the sort of care he needed. What care <em>did</em> he need, exactly? How was he to know he wasn’t making it even more difficult for him? He’d just learned the hard way that he couldn’t trust Crowley to always tell him what he really needed when it came to all this, so he was more or less on his own in figuring out how to be what the demon needed.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Perhaps Crowley just needed a distraction. Something to take his mind off of their shifting relationship. Something he could cling to for a sense of normalcy. Aziraphale smiled at the arrangement of plants as he walked down the aisles of the nursery, and imagined Crowley tending to his own with a peaceful look on his face, or perhaps even a small smile.<a href="#note3" id="note3back" name="note3back"><sup>3</sup></a></span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> He could start a little indoor garden in the shop, or in the new flat above it. Let Crowley look after it as he worked downstairs.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Oh, that was a dangerously domestic fantasy, though, wasn’t it? Soon, Aziraphale was imagining Crowley bringing his own plants over, and then some of his other things. He pictured the demon’s throne in the back of the shop, then quickly decided it would look ridiculous in such a cramped space. No, he’d need to expand the flat upstairs, give Crowley more space. It would only take a little bending of the laws of physics and no one would even notice! He could even put a greenhouse in the back of the shop, perhaps. It might have to exist partially in another dimension, but surely he’d be able to create the space for it. Anything to make Crowley feel more at home.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Aziraphale frowned. It wasn’t his home, though, was it? Not really. And as much as Aziraphale might want to make it so, he wasn’t sure that the demon was ready for such a big step. Sure, he had been staying over every night for the past week, but that’s hardly indicative of being prepared to move in entirely. One week spent together after 6,000 years of only the occasional, secret meeting– and Crowley could hardly handle that sudden shift!</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <em>If anything,</em> Aziraphale thought, <em>this close proximity is putting pressure on him to perform a certain way in our relationship. Sharing a living space in such an official capacity might completely overwhelm him!</em></span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Perhaps,” Aziraphale began aloud, then hushed himself when he realized he’d earned the attention of a few nearby shoppers. <em>Perhaps I ought to suggest he spend some time at his own flat for a little while</em>, he thought, picking up his gift for the demon and moving toward the register. <em>That way, he can sort through his feelings without worrying about pleasing me.</em></span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> It seemed the best option, though it hurt Aziraphale to think of being apart after finally having the freedom to be near each other without fear of their former respective sides. But this wasn’t just about what he <em>wanted</em>; it was about what Crowley <em>needed</em>. He smiled sadly to himself as he completed his purchase and exited the shop. He’d wait as long as he needed until Crowley could be near him without trying to force himself to do anything before he was ready. He’d made the demon wait centuries, <em>millennia</em>, even, to love him openly. Now it was his turn, he supposed. It was a pity, he thought, that they never seemed to be on the same page. But at least they were in the same book; that much seemed to be clear.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> It may take some time, he told himself, but they’d get there eventually. And in the meantime, he would shower the demon in as much love as he was allowed. He clutched the plant to his chest as he made his way back home with a hopeful smile.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p><a id="note1" name="note1"></a>1. Crowley, predictably, had been quite an influence in the design of mobile game ads. He hadn’t anticipated he’d ever be their victim at the time.<sup>[[<a href="#note1back">return</a>]]</sup></p><p> </p><p><a id="note2" name="note2"></a>2.<br/><br/><sup>[[<a href="#note2back">return</a>]]</sup></p><p> </p><p><a id="note3" name="note3"></a>3.<br/><br/><sup>[[<a href="#note3back">return</a>]]</sup></p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This is a short one, but I needed to get this thing going again, so. Here, have some pain. *dumps anxious!Crowley in your lap*</p><p><b>Content Notice:</b> More panic attacks.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Forty-six minutes. That was how long Aziraphale was gone. He’d gotten dressed, told Crowley to stay put, that he’d be back within the hour, and, true to his word, he was.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> But not before Crowley went on a 46-minute emotional journey courtesy of his damned mind.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> It started with a vivid reliving of what had happened just before Aziraphale had left. Crowley cursed his gifted imagination as he recalled the sounds Aziraphale had made, the feel of him in his hand, the way his legs had twitched, how he’d been able to feel the angel’s heart race as he stroked him, keeping his head pressed to that rising and falling chest.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> …Then there’d been the uncertainty in the angel’s voice–not because he didn’t want it, but because he was so damn worried that <em>Crowley</em> didn’t. And then it turned out that Crowley <em>didn’t</em> want it. That, no matter how hard he tried to just <em>deal with it</em>, to just <em>enjoy</em> this wonderful act he’d fantasized about <em>countless</em> times, he couldn’t.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Crowley turned around in the bed and let himself slump back against the headboard, blowing a puff of air from his lips as he did. Where had he gone wrong? Sure, he hadn’t been, well, <em>sure</em> when he’d ventured to touch Aziraphale that morning, but he’d really thought he’d be able to get over it! That maybe, if he just… jumped right into it, he’d realize how great it was. He’d always preferred a vulva for himself, but he’d grown a cock and wanked off many, <em>many</em> times in the past, imagining he was pleasuring Aziraphale instead, and it’d been great! Fan-fucking-tastic! Why was it so <em>different</em> when it was <em>real</em>?!</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Aziraphale had tried to comfort him by pointing out that fantasy was different than reality, but he already knew that! Of <em>course</em> he knew that! What he <em>didn’t</em> know was why “different” was so fucking panic-inducing.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Thank Someone for Aziraphale’s steadying presence. Even if Crowley’s anxiety stemmed from their… <em>whatever</em> they had together, Aziraphale still managed to make him feel safe. Cared for. <em>Loved</em>. Aziraphale… Aziraphale felt like home.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Home was a bit of a foreign concept to Crowley. He’d heard all the ridiculous things humans loved to say about it– that it was where the heart was, or where your loved ones were. He’d always snorted at such sentiments before. He’d made his flat as homelike as he could, with a large, comfortable bed and a special place for his plants and all those little souvenirs over the years and that extravagant throne and, oh, he hated it. He <em>hated</em> it.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> It wasn’t the flat itself that was so terrible, nor the things in it. He was quite proud of what he’d done with the place, and certainly there were things in it that he treasured more than he’d care to admit. It was the <em>being</em> there that he hated. It was having nowhere else to go, no… no <em>one</em> to go home <em>to</em>.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <em>Hell, Aziraphale’s shop feels more like a home than my flat ever did</em>, he mused to himself. <em>I’ve probably spent just as much time in it, too. More, even. And this new flat… </em>Fuck<em>, this flat… </em>Crowley swallowed, grasping at the tartan comforter as he realized he didn’t want to leave the place. Ever. He was fully prepared to abandon his flat entirely and move right on in with his angel. <em>Er,</em> the<em> angel. Is he mine? Is that weird? Whatever.</em></span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <em>Real question is, would he even want me around? </em>Crowley grimaced, his chest aching as he imagined Aziraphale shutting the proverbial door in his face, telling him he cared for him but didn’t want to keep him too close. <em>He would get sick of me, I know it, even if he doesn’t think he would… I’d find a way to fuck it up and he’d want me out of his hair. It’d just be a matter of t–</em></span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I’m back,” announced Aziraphale cheerily as he opened the door.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <em>Finally</em>, Crowley thought. He had had just about enough of being alone with his thoughts. He kicked himself off the bed and met Aziraphale in the middle of the room. His chest was still doing weird, mildly painful things. He tried to ignore it.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I’d half a mind to wrap it– the gift, that is–but, well, I’m not sure how I’d go about doing that, and anyway I thought it best if I allowed it to, ah, breathe.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Crowley quirked a brow.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Oh, you needn’t worry,” Aziraphale said quickly. “It’s not alive. Well, it is, I suppose, but not, well…” He brought his hand out from behind his back, and in it was a potted plant. He extended it to Crowley with both hands, and Crowley took it. “It’s a plant,” he said, as if introducing him to the species.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Yeah,” was all Crowley seemed to be able to say, his eyes fixed on the gift in his hands. <em>Fuck, this angel loves me so damn much, and too damn well.</em></span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Lemon balm.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Crowley nodded. <em>I don’t deserve him.</em></span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “It’s meant to ease anxiety and lift one’s mood. You can make it into a tea!” Aziraphale said brightly. “Anyway, I thought it might look nice in your flat.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <em>I may not deserve him, but I </em>have<em> him, and I think that means I’m the luckiest goddamn demon in the universe. </em>Crowley nodded again in a somewhat absent response to Aziraphale’s statement. Then, shaking himself into the present, he met the angel’s bright eyes with his own, and smiled. “Yeah, it will. Thanks, angel. Really.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Something like relief seemed to wash over Aziraphale. His smile widened. “Oh! You’re quite welcome. You do like it, then?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Another nod. “But, you know,” Crowley began, his voice working its absolute hardest to be calm, so as not to betray the <em>racing</em> in his chest, “I don’t really see the point in my flat anymore.” He set the plant down on the little bistro table. “I mean, you know, at this point, errr, maybe I should just…” He trailed off, unwilling to actually invite himself to move in with the angel. <em>Please, do it for me. Don’t make me ask for this aloud.</em></span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Aziraphale thinned his lips, his brows drawn together as though he were carefully drafting a response in his head. Crowley felt a sharp pain in his chest, and realized his mouth was feeling <em>very</em> dry. <em>Not now, not now, not now, stop it, </em>he mentally shouted at his rising panic attack.<em> Don’t fucking do this now. </em>He blinked back tears as he waited for the angel’s reply.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Now, what Aziraphale <em>said </em>was, “Actually, I’ve given it some thought, and I think… Well, I think you really should be taking some time alone. You know, to process things, w-without worrying about, ah, trying to please me. Just… Until you’re ready to be near me again without pressuring yourself.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> What Crowley <em>heard</em>, however, must have been something more along the lines of, “I think you and I need some time apart. It’s too painful for me to be around you and have to hold back my affection. I’d rather just not have you near me at all.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> So much for holding off that panic attack.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <em>No, no, no, no! I </em>need<em> you, </em>Crowley wished he could say, but couldn’t find the nerve. <em>You’re the only thing making this bearable! Yeah, okay, so I’m freaking out because of our developing relationship, but I don’t want to be </em>without<em> you! I need you, I need you, I need you, please don’t send me away, please, please, please, fuck, please don’t!</em></span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Crowley swallowed thickly, gave a slow blink in effort to keep those tears from falling down his cheeks, and nodded. “Yeah, right, fine, okay. I’ll just,” he reached for the plant, “I’ll just take this to my flat n’stay there, then.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Crowley… Are you alright?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <em>No, I’m not fucking alright. But I could’ve been. I would’ve been. If I’d stayed with you I could’ve gotten used to everything faster and we could’ve been happy and you wouldn’t have hated me or maybe you would’ve and fuck maybe it’s for the best that I leave. I’d probably ruin us if you let me stick around any longer.</em></span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Crowley didn’t say any of that. He knew it’d only get him a lecture and a concerned stare from soft eyes he couldn’t bear to look at. “Fine,” he said. “Fine, yeah. Just gonna… I’ll head off now.” With a thought, he miracled himself out of his pajamas and into his usual outfit, and walked past Aziraphale.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Well, you don’t have to–Crowley, wait just a <em>minute</em>! Didn’t you want to have lunch?!”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Another time. Gotta take off, plants to water, you know.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Crowley, already halfway out the door, was barely able to detect Aziraphale’s troubled utterance of, “Oh, dear.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <em>Oh, dear,</em> indeed.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Crowley stormed into his flat, setting the lemon balm down on the floor as he collapsed to it. He’d barely held it together on the 16-minute walk from the shop to his mockery of a “home”, and he was grateful for some privacy. He curled in on himself and stopped trying to steady his breath. It grew short, each blast of air through his lungs accompanied by a sharp pain in his chest. There was no one to witness the tears that finally fell from his eyes, but he miracled a pair of sunglasses on anyway as he broke down into sobs. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> It wasn’t a breakup. They weren’t even… Well, Crowley still wasn’t clear on that. The labels, that is. The official designation of their relationship. He supposed that part was up to him. Or would’ve been, if they were still together. Only they <em>were</em>, weren’t they? Just… apart?</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> No, it hadn’t been a breakup. But it sure felt like one. And when Crowley was going through something as unpleasant as a breakup, he liked to spend a lot of time with his plants. It soothed him, in a way.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> The plants, however, would <em>much</em> rather he employ a therapist for the task.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Disgusting,” he spat at a wilting spider plant. “I care for you, I look after you, and this is how I’m repaid? You’re <em>weak</em>. <em>Pathetic</em>, as I’m sure all your friends have noticed.” He gestured vaguely around him to the friends in question. They cowered where they sat. “You know,” he said, his voice grim as he turned back to his victim, “I really don’t think I want your company anymore. I shouldn’t have to have a miserable thing like you in my presence.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Crowley was too tired to make a show of shredding the poor plant to bits. He’d hardly had the energy to shout at it, still coming down from his most recent panic attack. So, with one last glare at the trembling plant, he simply snapped it out of existence. “And we’re all better off without you,” he grumbled.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “And <em>you</em>,” he turned to the newest member of the family. He’d set the lemon balm on a little golden display table of its own, right in the center of the room. “<em>You’re</em> a gift. If you even <em>think</em> about wilting…”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> The little plant cowered.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Crowley had to stifle an aching gasp as he dropped the harsh expression he’d been wearing. He couldn’t. He couldn’t threaten the thing. It felt like an extension of Aziraphale. The angel had been so happy about giving him the plant… He couldn’t yell at it. He <em>wouldn’t</em>.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> But neither could he let the other plants see him be soft toward one of them, so he picked up the lemon balm and its extravagant table and brought it into his bedroom.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I’m sorry,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’m sorry, angel.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> With the gifted plant at his bedside, Crowley snapped himself into his pajamas and crawled under the covers. It was hardly noon, but he’d had quite enough existing for one day, he decided.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>That demon sure do cry a lot, don't he? Is that out of character?? Probably. Am I gonna stop making him cry?? No, I'm pROJECTING, leave me aLONE.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Crowley woke to the sound of frantic knocking and muffled shouting on the other side of his door. He rolled out of bed with a groan to make his way into the hall to get a better grasp of whatever fuckery was going on.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “–the door! <em>Please</em>!”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Aziraphale. Right. Crowley sucked in a breath and stood behind the door, not at all confident in his ability to face the angel just yet.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I just need to know that you’re alright,” said Aziraphale, sounding increasingly desperate. “I’m sorry if you’d rather I not be here, b-but you left so quickly, and I wasn’t sure you were alright, a-and I just want to hear your <em>voice</em>, please, dear, it’s been <em>days</em>, and–”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Whatever Aziraphale said next was lost on Crowley, as he processed the fact that he’d apparently slept a <em>bit</em> longer than he’d intended. <em>Days?! How </em>many<em> days?</em> he wondered. He’d only meant to sleep through the rest of that awful day! <em>Fuckfuckfuck.</em></span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “–in there, I can sense your presence. Crowley, I will break in to check on you if I need to!” Aziraphale sounded quite determined, and Crowley stepped closer to the door with a sigh. “Oh dear, oh Lord, oh dear,” the angel continued to worry as Crowley moved to open the door, “please tell me you’ve not discorporated! Oh please, Crowley, please open th–Oh!”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Crowley just blinked at him, vaguely aware that his hair was a mess and his pajamas were rumpled and his eyes were still heavy from sleep and, oh, he really looked like shit, didn’t he?</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Forehead!” Aziraphale blurted out just before surging forward and planting a kiss to the wrinkles above Crowley’s brow. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Crowley’s expression remained flat as he said, “Thought I told you you didn’t have to warn me when you do that anymore.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Yes, well, as I said, you seemed so disturbed when you left, and I wasn’t sure if we’d, ah, taken a step backwards,” Aziraphale said nervously. Then his face softened to one of relief. “Oh, Crowley, I was so worried.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I was just sleeping,” Crowley said, curtly. “Why? How long was I out?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Four days! I was trying to give you your space, but, oh, I was just so–”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Yeah,” Crowley cut him off, “why’d’you care, anyway? Thought you needed a breather. You know, get me out of your hair…”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Aziraphale blinked at him. “I… I’m sorry? Surely you don’t believe…” Something like horror overtook the angel’s face when Crowley thinned his lips and looked down. “Oh, <em>no</em>, my dear! Crowley, I only sent you away because I thought it would be <em>best</em> for you, so that you wouldn’t feel any pressure to, to ‘progress’ our relationship before you’re ready! I, I thought it’d be easier if you had some space to think and process on your own. My dear, I <em>never</em> meant you to feel as though I didn’t want you around! Of <em>course</em> I do!”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Crowley swallowed. “So you’re not… tired of me yet?” He refused to lift his gaze from the floor, and hated himself for it. <em>You’re acting like a child. A pathetic, stupid human child. Stop it. Stop it! Why are you like this?!</em> He sniffed, feigning nonchalance as he forced himself to look up into worried grey-blue eyes. “You’re not sick of having to be the put-together one?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Well, I don’t know that I <em>am</em> that,” Aziraphale said, “but no, Crowley, I am not at all sick of it. Nor of you. I don’t think I ever could be. I can be quite nurturing, you know.” He put on a soft smile, and something twinkled in his eyes. “I never really had the chance to prove it in such a capacity until now. But believe me, dear, though I by no means <em>enjoy</em> seeing you so…” He gave him an apologetic look. “Well, fragile, no offense intended.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “None taken,” Crowley said flatly. <em>He’s not wrong</em>, his mind spat at him, <em>you ought to have a great, big “Handle With Care” sign taped to your back.</em></span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Ah, good. Well. As I said, I’m not happy for the fact that you <em>need</em> nurturing, but I am quite happy to nurture you, as it is. Does that… Does that make any sense at all?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Crowley looked at the space between his bare feet and Aziraphale’s shoes. “Guess so.” <em>I’m a demon, I shouldn’t </em>need<em> nurturing. You shouldn’t be in this position in the first place,</em> said one side of Crowley’s head. The other was simply repeating desperate phrases like, <em>I need you, Hold me,</em> and, <em>Please take me back home. Don’t leave me here again.</em>To which the insecure side retorted, <em>The angel was wrong. You’re not just fragile; you’re already broken.</em></span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> His mind proceeded to get stuck in a loop of <em>Need him–Pathetic–I </em>need<em> him–Pathetic!!!–Wish he’d hug me or something–Pathetic, pathetic, pathetic!</em></span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Crowley…”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em> Pathetic… Ridiculous… Undesirable… I need him to be closer to me.</em>
  </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Crowley.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <em>Nurture me, nurture me, handle me with care. Put me back together. I’m broken. Help. I don’t know what to do.</em></span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Crowley, may I hug you?” Aziraphale asked hesitantly, dipping his chin to seek out the demon’s gaze. “Would that be alright?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Crowley didn’t answer. He just let himself lean forward until the angel was left with no choice but to hug him to keep him from falling.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Oh, my dear,” Aziraphale soothed, holding him steady. “It’s alright.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> When had he started crying? Crowley supposed he should be used to it by now. Aziraphale seemed to be. The angel was holding him tightly, keeping his head pressed to his shoulder. “‘M’sorry.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “None of that. Will you let me come in, dear? Perhaps we should sit on the sofa. I’ll hold you until you calm down. Would that be alright?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Crowley nodded. Then, to his surprise, he was lifted up, Aziraphale prompting him to wrap his legs around the angel’s waist and throw his arms over his shoulders.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Aziraphale kicked the door closed behind them and carried Crowley to the sofa. He sat down like that, with Crowley in his lap, breathing unsteadily against his neck. “There we are. It’s alright, dear. Just breathe.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Crowley sighed and let himself rest against Aziraphale.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> It was quiet between them for a moment, before Aziraphale said, his voice soft and gentle and tinged with remorse, “I know you wanted to stay, dear. I know you wanted me to <em>ask</em> you to stay. Perhaps permanently. It was quite obvious, really.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <em>Great</em>, Crowley thought, grateful to have his face pressed to the angel’s shoulder and thus not visible to him.<em> Tell me how foolish I looked. Just what I need.</em></span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “And, you know, it really did pain me to have to suggest you go back to, ah, to ‘yours’,” Aziraphale continued, his speech spiraling into a nervous ramble. “In fact, I… I didn’t <em>want</em> you to have ‘your place’, nor do I find that I want to have ‘<em>my</em> place’. I… Crowley, I do <em>so</em> want the shop to be our place!”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Crowley’s heart began to race, but, in a refreshing break from recent experience, it wasn’t accompanied by outright panic. No, this was something far more terrifying, he realized. It was hope.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Oh, the moment I thought of it, I was thrilled! I wanted to invite you to move in right away,” Aziraphale admitted, and Crowley had to bite his lip to stifle the little gasp that threatened to make itself heard.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <em>Why didn’t you? Why </em>don’t<em> I?! Ask me, angel, ask me!</em></span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “But…”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <em>Of course. Of course there’s a “but”.</em></span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “…Crowley, I do think we’d benefit from some time apart. I can adjust our little space to better accommodate two–I’ll need to make room for all your lovely plants!”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Crowley nearly melted at the phrase “our little space”. Then he quite quickly realized that that felt <em>different–</em>intimate in a way he wasn’t sure he was okay with–and that he had absolutely no idea why. Maybe some time apart <em>would</em> do him good. Maybe he needed to be okay with phrases like “our little space” before he could move into such a thing. <em>Fuck. Why can’t you just–</em></span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “And in the meantime,” Aziraphale continued, “you can, you know, work on–”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Processing my stupid feelings,” Crowley mumbled into Aziraphale’s neck, “yeah, I get the idea.” He sighed. “I can do that. I’ll do it, angel. I swear. I’ll get my shit sorted.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Aziraphale pulled back and lifted Crowley’s head to give him a disapproving look, but didn’t chastise him aloud. Instead, he said, “Perhaps this will give us a chance to… to court each other.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Crowley snorted. “People don’t say that anymore, angel.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Well, still. Might that be something you’d be open to?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “What, ‘courting’?” He swallowed. “Dunno. What would that even look like for us?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I suppose it would look however we wished it. We could go out to dinner, take walks in the park, perhaps enjoy a show together.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Angel. We’ve done all those things. <em>Many</em> times. That’s… That’s how we spend our time.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Well, yes, but that was with a different context, wasn’t it? These would be… Well, ‘dates’, I suppose. Officially. With intent to… to commit to something, er,” Aziraphale eyed him hesitantly, “romantic? Unless you don’t like that sort of terminology! W-we could, um, well, we could just–”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Crowley cut him off with a kiss, startling the both of them. He dared to slip his tongue between Aziraphale’s lips, and reveled in the taste of him, and the little startled gasp it drew from the angel. <em>Yes, this… This is right. This is good. This is– Too much. Fuck, it’s too much. I can’t, I can’t–</em> He pulled away with a sharp intake of breath and shook his head. He closed his eyes, gathering himself for a moment before opening them to fix Aziraphale with a sincere gaze. “I want those things,” he said. “I want to be able to call them dates. I want it to be romantic, angel, I do. And I’ll spend all my time hunkered down here figuring out why those kinds of words also terrify me. I’ll get to the bottom of it. You go on and adjust your… <em>our</em> place, and I’ll be ready for you soon. I swear it.” </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Aziraphale smiled fondly and moved to get up, prompting a frown from Crowley.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “You… You don’t have to go right this minute, do you?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Aziraphale froze in place. “Oh! No, I– No, of course I don’t.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Crowley shifted off the angel’s lap and onto the sofa, then leaned back and pulled Aziraphale down on top of him. “M’gonna take a nap. Would… Would you just stay ’til I fall asleep?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Aziraphale smiled warmly. “I can think of nothing I’d rather do more.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Right,” Crowley snorted.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I’m serious!”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Mm, you’d rather hold me until I fall asleep than, I dunno,” he shifted his voice into a mocking tone, “<em>consummate</em> our relationship?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I only want what you want, dear,” Aziraphale said simply.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Crowley growled, sitting up straight and pushing Aziraphale off of him. “Don’t fucking lie to me, angel. It doesn’t do either of us any good.” Before Aziraphale could reply, he continued, “Yeah, I know, you <em>genuinely</em> don’t want to rush me. I get it. I believe you. But don’t tell me you don’t <em>want</em> things just because <em>I’m</em> not ready for them. Don’t fucking pretend that you’re not frustrated with me.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Aziraphale was quiet for a moment. Then, “Alright. Are you <em>quite</em> finished?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Crowley thinned his lips and looked away.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Aziraphale sighed. “Crowley, I’m only frustrated with you <em>at the moment</em> because you’re being so ridiculous about all of this. I’d really rather you didn’t put words in my mouth. I am <em>not</em>,” Aziraphale reached out to turn Crowley’s face toward him, then softened his voice, “I am <em>not</em> frustrated with you for not being ready for the things that, alright, yes, I want. I suppose I misspoke earlier; I apologize for that. I <em>do</em> desire things that you are not, and indeed may <em>never</em> be ready for. And I am working to accept that. But not for <em>one</em> moment throughout <em>any</em> of this have I been frustrated with <em>you</em> for that. I love you too dearly to blame you for that which is beyond your control.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “S’not beyond my control, though, is it?” Crowley muttered, finally meeting the angel’s gaze. “That’s why I’m staying here. To get my shit under <em>control</em>. To make myself be okay with it.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Aziraphale’s face darkened, his voice tense as he said, “That is most certainly <em>not</em> why you are staying here! You are <em>staying</em> here to understand yourself. To process things. Not to <em>force</em> anything– Crowley, the whole point of you being here is to help you <em>not</em> to feel like you need to force yourself to be ready for anything before you’re… Well, before you’re <em>ready</em> for it!”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Crowley sat still, staring blankly over the angel’s shoulder.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I think,” Aziraphale began again with a sigh, “I think that you also ought to work on your ability to accept love, my dear. And to… to prioritize your own needs. You’ve put my needs before yours for so long, Crowley. You needn’t worry about that anymore.” He reached a tentative hand out to stroke his thumb over Crowley’s cheek. “Your needs <em>matter</em>, Crowley.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I don’t even know what I need,” Crowley mumbled, leaning into Aziraphale’s touch.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “That’s alright. That’s why you’re taking this time alone, isn’t it?” Aziraphale gave him a soft smile and dropped his hand back to his lap. “To pin down what it is that you need, or want, and in what capacity.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Crowley sniffed and nodded, more to himself than for Aziraphale’s sake. <em>Just figure your shit out, </em>he told himself. <em>That’s all you have to do. How hard can it be? </em>He leaned forward, placing his face in the crook of Aziraphale’s neck. “‘M sorry I keep doing this.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> He could practically <em>feel</em> Aziraphale’s frown when the angel said, “Doing what?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Being… I dunno. Bit of an idiot.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Aziraphale’s voice was soft but serious as he said, “I’ll not have you speak that way about someone I hold so dear.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Crowley swallowed and pressed closer against the angel. After a moment, he mumbled, “R’you still gonna stay here until I–”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “<em>Yes</em>, I’m going to stay here until you fall asleep,” Aziraphale said, a bit more snappish than Crowley thought was necessary. Then his voice softened. “I’ll stay here as long as you’d like. Although I <em>do</em> need to get back to the shop and start making those adjustments.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Crowley nodded, already feeling himself drift off in Aziraphale’s arms. He was vaguely aware of a shifting of their positions, of Aziraphale gently urging him to lie back on the sofa, and then there was a press of lips to his forehead.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Sleep well, my dear.”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>This was a relatively short scene, I know, but the next chapter should have quite a bit more content to it. :}<br/>Admittedly I've been having a bit of trouble setting the pace for this fic (the irony of which is not lost on me).</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Aziraphale had moved Crowley from the sofa to his far more comfortable bed before slipping out the front door of the flat and locking it behind him with a miracle. As he walked back to his shop, he found that he couldn’t keep from beaming at the idea of what was to come. Crowley, in his home! <em>Their</em> home! <em>Forever</em>, he thought with a sudden breath and a fluttery feeling in his chest.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Yes, soon this would be their reality.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> He just had to prepare the space for him! And, well, of course there was Crowley. Crowley just had to, er, work through his feelings about the whole thing, first.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <em>His feelings wouldn’t be half as complicated if </em>you<em> hadn’t kept him at arm’s length for 6,000 years, </em>spewed the bitter voice in the back of his head.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Aziraphale’s smile faltered.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <em>Centuries of denying your relationship. Of telling him he was going too fast. And you thought he’d be ready to accept your love just because </em>you’re<em> finally ready to accept </em>his<em>? Selfish bastard, indeed.</em></span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Aziraphale’s smile dropped entirely, and he felt tears begin to gather in his eyes.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <em>Of course he can’t bring himself to touch you. It wasn’t even a month ago that you told him you didn’t even like him! That you weren’t even friends! And here you are, trying to make him your lover. He </em>certainly<em> wouldn’t be ready to hear </em>that<em> word yet, would he?</em></span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Aziraphale’s lip began to wobble as he held his own hand and picked up the pace, eager to get back to the safety of his shop where he could have a proper breakdown.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em> This is exactly what you deserve.</em>
  </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Aziraphale broke into sobs.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>VIBE CHECK *chucks negative thoughts at Aziraphale*</p><p>.</p><p>.</p><p>.</p><p>This was super duper short but I wanted it to stand alone and I'm trying to motivate myself to finish writing the next chapter woot woot.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Chapter 6</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Crowley woke in his bed. Which was odd given that he was pretty sure he’d fallen asleep on the couch. As his post-sleep daze began to wear off, he realized with a smile that Aziraphale must’ve moved him. Tucked him in, even! He almost wished he’d been awake for it, but wasn’t entirely sure how he’d have reacted in the moment. Would it have been too much for him? Would he have shoved Aziraphale’s gentle, caring hands away in a panic and turned his back on him? Or might he have… Might he have begged Aziraphale to stay? Made room for him on the bed? He’d liked sleeping next to him before… Why the heaven couldn’t he just be <em>consistent</em>?!</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> He rolled over with a sigh and checked his phone, relieved to find that he’d only slept for a few hours. He did have four missed calls, though, and three voicemails.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> All from Aziraphale.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Crowley rolled back to a more comfortable position on the bed as he dialed his voicemail, gritting his teeth. The first message was from earlier in the day, 40 minutes after the first missed call.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <em>“Hello, Crowley. I called a bit earlier, but I didn’t want to disturb you, so I didn’t leave a message, b-but it’s been four days since we last spoke and I don’t know what I did to upset you but I’m, well, I’m growing a bit worried. I understand if you don’t wish to speak to me– That is, if you need your space, but please get back to me and at least let me know you’re alright. I do hope to hear from you soon, dear.”</em></span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Crowley deleted the message with a twinge of guilt and moved on to the next one.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <em>“Crowley, I– I’m coming over.”</em> Crowley winced. Aziraphale sounded far more frantic in this one. <em>“I hope you’ll forgive the intrusion but I… I </em>need<em> to know that you’re alright. Please be alright. Oh, dear. I’ll… I’ll be there soon.”</em></span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> With a gulp and a piercing sensation in his chest, Crowley deleted the message and continued on to the next one. It was timestamped for less than half an hour ago. He frowned as Aziraphale’s small, troubled voice came through the phone’s speaker.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <em>“Crowley, I… I’ve realized I… I’m… Oh, I don’t know how to say this.”</em> Crowley tensed at the rawness of Aziraphale’s voice. It sounded as though he’d been crying. Or as though he were <em>still</em> crying. <em>“I’m so sorry, my love– I, I mean, my dear. I’m…”</em> A barely detectable sob, but Crowley detected it, and felt his own eyes form tears at the sound of it.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <em>“I know it’s my fault. I know I’ve been a terrible friend all these years, I know I’ve,”</em> a sniffle, <em>“I know I’ve not been easy to love. I don’t know how I’ve managed to keep you around after pushing you away for so long. I wouldn’t blame you if, after you’ve had time to truly ponder your feelings regarding our relationship, if you never,”</em> another sniffle, <em>“if you never wanted to see me again. B-but I hope you will. I hope you will. I– I should hang u–”</em> The phone had cut the message short, but not soon enough, as far as Crowley was concerned. He’d dissolved into sobs at the idea that Aziraphale thought he was difficult to love. That he <em>blamed</em> himself for… for Crowley’s own conflicting emotions.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> He let himself cry for a minute before he gathered himself and let out a little frustrated growl. “Stupid angel,” he muttered as he dialed Aziraphale. He used his free hand to wipe the tears from his cheeks.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <em>“Hello, this is–”</em></span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “You’re an idiot,” Crowley snapped, cutting Aziraphale off.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> An audible gulp. <em>“I– I know.”</em></span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “No, you don’t. You think you do. But you’re an idiot for a different reason.” Crowley sighed and slumped back against the headboard of the bed. “Sorry,” he said, softening his voice. “I’m not– I’m just– I’m frustrated, s’all.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <em>“Understandably. I’m afraid I’ve made quite a fool of myself with that last message I left you. I must apologize for it. It wasn’t appropriate of me to, er… To call you in such a state. I don’t… I don’t want to make any of this about me, and I’m afraid I’ve done just that. Please, er, if you would, disregard–”</em></span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “No, Aziraphale! First of all, you <em>get</em> to make this about you, because it’s about <em>us</em>. S’not just me, in this, here, is it?” He didn’t give Aziraphale a chance to respond before continuing, “Anyway, I’m– I dunno why you’re making this so fucking difficult,” Crowley grumbled. “I’m <em>trying</em> to tell you that you’re easy to love!”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> It was silent on the other end for a moment, giving Crowley time to replay what he’d just said and the harsh tone he’d said it in. He was about to open his mouth to say it a bit more, er, <em>lovingly</em>, when Aziraphale spoke. <em>“I find that hard to believe,” </em>he said, his voice just above a whisper.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Well, believe it,” said Crowley. “Easiest thing I’ve ever done, loving you.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <em>“I’ve, I’ve kept you at arm’s length, I’ve told you I didn’t–”</em></span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I’m not saying it hasn’t been painful at times. I’m not saying I’ve never been frustrated, never cried myself to sleep wishing you’d just… let me in. I understood why you wouldn’t, why you felt like you couldn’t for so long, and I won’t deny that that <em>hurt</em>. But what I’m saying is that loving you, no matter how complicated it might be, has never been a choice for me. And the fact that you thought for even a <em>second</em> that I might not want to ever see you again if I ‘truly pondered’ it, the fact that you seem to think loving you is something I could <em>ever</em> give up– That tells me you’ve never really grasped my love for you.” A pause. “So, I’m. Y’know. Just calling to set the record straight.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Another moment of silence before Aziraphale said, <em>“Well, I appreciate it.” </em>He didn’t sound entirely convinced.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Crowley nodded. <em>Right, then,</em> he thought, <em>on to plan B. </em>“Look,” he said, shifting where he lay, “I’m gonna, er… I’m gonna spend the rest of the day by myself–”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <em>“Oh, of course, take all the time you n–”</em></span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I’m going to spend the rest of the day by myself,” Crowley said, slower and more forcefully this time, “<em>and then</em> I’m going to pick you up tomorrow, and we’re going out. We’ll get lunch–whatever you want, wherever you want. Got it?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <em>“I– Are you sure?”</em></span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Crowley tensed. “I’m <em>sure</em>.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <em>“Ah, well, then,” </em>said Aziraphale, still hesitant but sounding much more happy, prompting a small smile from Crowley.<em> “I suppose I should expect you tomorrow.”</em></span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Yup.” Crowley grinned. “You’ve got a day to figure out where you want to go.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <em>“I think I can manage that.”</em> Aziraphale was quiet a moment before saying, his voice fond, <em>“Enjoy the rest of your day, dearest.”</em></span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “See you tomorrow, angel.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Crowley hung up, and promptly shoved a hand down his pajamas.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> He wanted to do this while the angel’s voice was still ringing in his ears. Wanted to fool himself into feeling some sense of intimacy with Aziraphale, although he wasn’t actually touching him. If he could just get used to the idea…</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> He rubbed at his clit roughly, biting his lower lip as he clung to memory of the angel’s voice. <em>“Enjoy the rest of your day, dearest,”</em> he’d said. Oh, he planned to. He <em>hoped</em> to, anyway.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Wanna be with you,” he said under his breath. “Wanna make love to you, angel.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> It was true, in that moment. Just as it had been true every other time he’d touched himself to thoughts of Aziraphale. It was so <em>easy</em> when he was alone. But would it still be true if he were actually with him? If the angel were to walk through the door and ask to join him, would he be ready?</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <em>Aziraphale wouldn’t ask to join you,</em> he told himself. <em>That’s not his style.</em></span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> What <em>would</em> he do, then? If Crowley could just prepare himself for the most likely scenario, if he could get rid of all the unknowns and figure out what to expect, maybe he could… maybe he could–</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <em>Nope</em>, something in him said.<em> Not yet. Can’t. No. Can’t do it. Don’t touch him. No. He can’t touch you. Stop it. Stop it!</em></span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> He yanked his hand out of his pajamas with a choked sob. Great. He couldn’t even have a wank anymore without panicking, it seemed.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Get out of my <em>head</em>,” he yelled, though he wasn’t sure who the demand was directed at. His anxiety? Himself? In any case, he knew he really did need to get out of his own head. Why couldn’t he just… shut it off when it started acting up? Why couldn’t he just touch Aziraphale without thinking about it?</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I <em>want</em> to think about it,” he murmured aloud, then threw his head back with a groan. “I want to <em>be</em> there.” He let out a little whimper from the back of his throat and squeezed his eyes shut. He pictured Aziraphale, smiling softly at him and reaching out to run a hand through his hair. Would he be okay with that? He thought he might be.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Crowley started compiling a mental list of all the things he was certain that he was comfortable with.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Forehead kisses. <em>Fuck</em>, he loved the feeling of Aziraphale’s soft lips just above his brow.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Cheek kisses, though the mere thought of them made him blush.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kissing–proper, deep, <em>passionate</em> kissing–was good, so long as he initiated it and didn’t get too excited. Tasting Aziraphale on his tongue, hearing his little sighs and whimpers against his mouth… He shook his head, not wanting to be distracted with arousal at that moment, but smiled at the realization that he could at least handle that much.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <em>Right, </em>he thought. <em>Moving on, then.</em></span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> What about words? Labels? Phrases?</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> He was perfectly comfortable with “I love you”, both saying it and hearing it said to him. He’d loved him for so long it was like the words were in a constant loop in some corner of his mind. Voicing them only felt natural. And finally hearing them back? Oh, that was good. <em>So</em> good. Necessary, even. Like coming up for air after nearly drowning.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> The word “dear” was fine. Good, even. He’d been used to it, after all. It had a slightly different context now, and he found he was hearing it quite a bit more often than he used to from the angel, but it certainly didn’t bother him. “Dearest” was new, and also quite welcome, but it made his heart do weird things. <em>But s’not a bad weird, is it? S’just new. That’s okay, isn’t it?</em> It was, he decided. Felt like a warm hug.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Oh, that was one he’d forgotten about, wasn’t it? Hugs. Being wrapped up in the softest angel known to the Universe. Crowley thought he could <em>live</em> in Aziraphale’s arms. He wondered what it’d be like to coil around him in snake form. He hoped he’d get to try it one day. He hoped that, in any form, he’d eventually get to spend every night in those arms, and wake up in that warm embrace. He’d grown quite used to waking up next to Aziraphale. Until he’d fucked everything up and been asked to leave.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <em>That’s not what happened,</em> he tried to reason with himself, the comforting voice in his mind sounding a lot like Aziraphale’s. <em>That’s not why you were sent away. You just need some time to process things, remember? A bit of reflection. You can do that, can’t you, dearest?</em></span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Crowley sighed and slid further down the mattress until his head was resting on his pillow. Process things. Yeah, he could do that. <em>Just… figure out what you’re okay with and what you’re not and </em>why<em> that is</em>, he told himself, the voice in his head sounding a lot more like his own as his impatience grew. <em>Figure out why you can’t just </em>do<em> the things you want to do with him.</em></span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> He grimaced at the emerging memory of the last morning he’d spent with Aziraphale. The feeling of that hard cock pressed against his hip through the fabric of their pajamas. The desire that had risen in Crowley, becoming almost a <em>need</em> to take care of Aziraphale’s needs. And yet, he’d been unable to follow through with it. Unable to even look the angel in the eyes when he took him in hand. <em>Why?</em></span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> The thought of Aziraphale in pleasure, moaning softly and biting his lip and squirming on the bed and–<em>oh</em>, he loved that idea. Always had. He wanted <em>so</em> badly to bring Aziraphale to that point of bliss, but he couldn’t think of any ways to go about doing so without getting anxious.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <em>If only I could snap my fingers and make him come</em>, he thought. <em>Wait… Could I do that? Could I actually just… miracle him an orgasm?</em></span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> It was an interesting thought, certainly. One he definitely wanted to explore some time in the future. But he didn’t want that to be their first time. He wanted to be able to take his time with Aziraphale, to build up that pleasure and watch him tip over the edge. He wanted to be personally, <em>intimately</em> involved with every step Aziraphale took towards that edge. He wanted to please him with his hands, with his mouth, with his body, with his words. Fuck, he wanted to whisper sweet nothings in the angel’s ear. He wanted to tell him how much he loved him, how long he’d wanted him, how beautiful and perfect he was and how glad he was to be <em>his</em>.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> But he couldn’t do that, could he?</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Not yet.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <em>Not yet.</em></span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Crowley sighed and closed his eyes, and before he knew it he was drifting off to sleep.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Crowley.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Aziraphale’s voice was soft and sweet in his ear. A warm kiss was pressed to the side of his head.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Wake up, my dear.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Crowley stirred, grumbling and clinging to the angel he was resting on top of. Only… he hadn’t gone to sleep like that, had he? No, he wasn’t meant to see Aziraphale until he picked him up for their date the next day.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> He lifted his head to find himself on the sofa in the back of the bookshop. Only, the sofa was wider and a bit more bed-like than it ought to have been.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Right. A dream, then. A lucid one, at that. It’d been a while since Crowley had experienced a lucid dream, and he chewed his lip as he considered what to do with the opportunity. Seemed a pity to waste it.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> He could… He could go over that morning–the morning he’d gone too far–and maybe… Maybe he could figure out what had gone wrong. Maybe if he went over it again, slower and with the intention of analysis, maybe he would be able to realize why he hadn’t been able to go through with it.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> He willed himself and dream-Aziraphale into the bed in the angel’s flat. <em>Their</em> flat, he reminded himself. <em>Their</em> bed. Well, almost theirs. <em>Just. Figure this out, </em>he thought. <em>Sooner you figure it out, the sooner you can move in, yeah? Just. Figure. It. Out.</em></span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Oh, my. That was a bit disorienting,” dream-Aziraphale noted. “Might I ask the reason for our miraculous relocation?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Gonna make you come,” said Crowley, more determined than ever.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Oh! Are… Are you sure you’re ready for that, dear?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Yep. Let’s get your trousers off.” Crowley frowned down at the fully-clothed angel below him. The fact that his subconscious hadn’t put Aziraphale in pajamas when putting him in bed with him was something he could analyze later. Or, maybe, he hoped, he wouldn’t <em>need</em> to analyze it if he could just get <em>through</em> this. He reached to pop the button on Aziraphale’s trousers and licked his lips. He wondered what it’d look like. He’d never actually <em>seen</em> the angel’s cock. He’d… handled it, yeah. Gotten a pretty good idea of the size and shape of the thing. But what would it <em>look</em> like?</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Crowley decided he didn’t want to practice on an inaccurately-constructed dream cock, and anyway he was meant to be doing a redo on that particular morning, so he brought his hand away from the angel’s trousers and snapped him into his pajamas instead.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Oh,” Aziraphale said, glancing down at his pajamas, which were tented at the groin. “Well, that’s a bit more comfortable.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Mm,” Crowley agreed, then moved to position himself on top of Aziraphale, his head on the angel’s chest, just as it’d been that morning. “Gonna get you <em>real</em> comfortable, angel.” He reached a hand down, letting it graze Aziraphale’s cock over the fabric of his pajamas.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Aziraphale sucked in a breath, a little whimper in his throat when he exhaled. “I– Are you sure you want to do this?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Crowley hissed. “I’m <em>certain</em>.” He hooked his fingers on Aziraphale’s waistband. “Just let me–”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “But are you <em>really</em> sure, Crowley? Or, or are you just trying to please me? I don’t want you to do anything you’re not–”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Crowley cut the angel off with a growl and sat up to glare at him. “<em>Stop</em> it!”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Aziraphale’s brows furrowed.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Stop <em>questioning</em> me! I can’t– How can I avoid panicking when <em>you’re</em> panicking over the <em>possibility</em> of me panicking?!”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “My dear, I–”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “No, shut up,” Crowley interrupted, feeling a bit bad for doing so even though he knew it wasn’t the real Aziraphale. But he was on to something here and he wasn’t about to let the angel stop his train of thought. “I need you to believe in me. I need you to have–” he huffed a laugh at the realization, “I need you to have <em>faith.</em> If you could just… put your faith in a demon for a fucking <em>minute</em>, I swear I’ll… Just… Angel, just <em>trust</em> that I can do this without freaking out. Because every time you second guess me, I start second guessing myself. You’re making it–” <em>worse</em>, he didn’t say. “You’re making it harder for me. Even if it turns out I can’t do something, I need you to pretend you think I can. Just– Just stop asking me every five seconds if I’m ‘sure’.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Dream-Aziraphale blinked at him dumbly, reminding Crowley that he was, y’know, a <em>dream</em>. Crowley sighed, but then couldn’t help but smile. That was <em>it</em>, wasn’t it? The second-guessing thing. He’d figured it out! He beamed, so thrilled at the revelation that he woke himself up. He sat up in bed and let out a gleeful chuckle. He’d done it! Problem solved, issues gone, everything was looking good for him! Great, even. Fucking <em>tickety-boo</em>! He dissolved into happy, relieved laughter, and threw himself back onto the mattress with a contented sigh. He could hardly wait to see Aziraphale the next day. He had some incredibly good news to share.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">...Only, how was he going to share that news without making the angel feel bad? <em>Fuck</em>. <em>Fuck fuck fuck. </em>Crowley spent the rest of the day mulling over how to best word his discovery. It wasn’t Aziraphale’s fault, really. He didn’t know what he was doing– He was trying to help! He was just worried about Crowley’s wellbeing. Crowley knew that. He didn’t blame him, he wasn’t <em>upset</em> with him, despite the way he’d shouted at dream-Aziraphale about it.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> But how would Aziraphale take it? How could Crowley deliver the news in as nonchalant a manner as possible?</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> He considered his options right up until he had to leave to pick Aziraphale up for their date.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> He still had no idea what to say.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <em>Fuck</em>.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>"Problem solved, issues gone," hahahhaahaahahah spOILER ALERT but Crowley really has no idea how feelings work, much less his own.</p><p>Wish him luck on his date, he's gonna need it. (:</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Chapter 7</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Holy fuck it's been a stupidly long time, so sorry. I haven't forgotten this story! And now that I've started working on it again, I finally have a chapter estimate and more detailed outline! I can't promise timely updates but rest assured this story <i>will</i> be finished eventually. :P</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I thought it would be a bit soon to visit again, you know, so I– Crowley, are you listening to me?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> He hadn’t been. Crowley blinked and realized he’d managed to get dressed, drive to the shop, pick up Aziraphale, and ask him where he wanted to go, all without really… <em>being</em> there. He scrambled to recall what the angel had said. Something about going to the Ritz? Er, <em>not</em> going there? He swallowed and met Aziraphale’s concerned gaze.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Crowley?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I realized something,” Crowley blurted out before he could think to stop himself, his heart pounding in his chest. “Yesterday. In a dream. Don’t wanna upset you but I have to tell you because it’s important and I wanna be able to touch you ’n stuff but you keep– I can’t– I don’t know how to say it.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Aziraphale’s frown softened, but was still quite definitely a frown. “Alright… Are… Are you going to–”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “You keep questioning me. Treating me like I’m fragile. And maybe I am, but I don’t– I can’t do anything when you’re second-guessing me. Messes me up. You ask me if I’m ‘sure’ and I know you’re just trying to protect me but all it does is make me doubt myself and I can’t– I just– I just need you to trust me.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Aziraphale swallowed. “I… I see. I’m…” Tears formed in the angel’s eyes, his voice cracking a bit as he said, “I’m so <em>sorry</em>, Crowley. I didn’t– I never meant to–”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Crowley, having finally freed himself from the burden of holding that information back, had returned to his right mind and immediately regretted his thoughtless phrasing. He shifted in his seat and pulled Aziraphale into his arms. It was a bit awkward–the Bentley wasn’t exactly accommodating to their position, but it seemed to satisfy the angel, who melted into Crowley’s arms and let out a little sob against his shoulder.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Shhh,” soothed Crowley, rubbing the back of the angel’s neck with his thumb. “I’m sorry, angel. I didn’t mean for it to come out like that.” He cursed his anxiety for stealing his ability to communicate smoothly. Less for what it did to his image, and more for what it did to Aziraphale.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I–” Aziraphale sucked in a breath and let it out shakily, warming the skin of Crowley’s neck. The demon shuddered, but made no move to pull away from him. “I don’t think there is any way it could have come out that wouldn’t have resulted in tears, my dear.” Aziraphale sniffled and pulled back to give Crowley a half-smile. “I just feel so… So <em>awful</em>. If I’d known I was making it all worse for you…”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Look, <em>I</em> didn’t even know until yesterday, alright?” Crowley reached out to wipe a tear from Aziraphale’s cheek. It was a gesture he wasn’t entirely comfortable doing but he knew he’d be far more uncomfortable if he didn’t. “I don’t blame you. I know you just want to make sure I’m okay. I’m not upset with you, alright? I was up all night trying to figure out how to word all this so you’d know I wasn’t upset with you. Obviously I, er, y’know, <em>failed</em>. But, look at me,” he said, taking the angel’s face in his hands as he held his gaze. “I am <em>not</em> upset with you. Yeah? I’m thrilled, actually,” he grinned, “‘cause now I know what’s been holding me back. And now we can– We can do stuff. Y’know. We can go forward. Full speed ahead.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Aziraphale sniffled and looked back at Crowley with wide, hopeful eyes. “Are you–” He cut himself off, swallowing, then his lower lip began to tremble. “Oh, Crowley, I– I want to trust you, I do, b-but, I–” The tears started back up again and Crowley dropped his hands from the angel’s face, his heart sinking with every tear that fell from Aziraphale’s beautiful, sad eyes. “After that morning, I– It’s– I’m– It was–”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I fucked it up,” said Crowley, feeling more than a little distant from himself. “I fucked it up. I fucked it up.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Stop saying that. You were… You were trying to help yourself adjust, and I– I suppose I can understand that. But you– Crowley, I– We talked so extensively about your boundaries but, well, we never really talked about <em>mine</em>, and I’m afraid you… You crossed a boundary for me, in forcing yourself to do something before you were ready. In… In placing my pleasure above your own comfort. I can’t– I feel as though I have to… to be responsible for your feelings, since you’ve… since…”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Since I’ve failed to do so myself,” Crowley said, nodding. He felt numb.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I’m sorry, my dear. I’m quite pleased to hear that you’ve realized what’s been holding you back, a-although I’m… I’m not entirely thrilled to learn that it was my own doing. B-but, what I’m trying to say is, I… I’m not ready. I’m not ready to go further with you. Physically, at least. Not… not yet.” Aziraphale took a deep breath, then nodded. “You need to know that I trust you in order to move forward, and I need to… Well, I need to build that trust. I need you to show me you’re ready, Crowley. Because I’m… I’m sorry, dear, but I’m afraid that your word simply isn’t going to be enough for me at this point.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Crowley nodded, swallowing as he turned back to the steering wheel. “Got it.” He sniffed, doing his best to feign casualness as he said, “Where’d you wanna go, then?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Crowley.” Aziraphale’s voice was low and gentle, but stern. “Do you still <em>want</em> to go out?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Do you?” asked Crowley, not feeling brave enough to turn and look at him. One look at that undoubtedly soft gaze would send him into tears, he was sure of it. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I do. I think we… I think we’ve made some progress, today. As…As painful as it might have been. But I do still want your company. That is if you’ve not changed your–”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I haven’t changed my mind.” Crowley turned to look at the angel, holding tears back by sheer force of will. He reached for the glove compartment to pull out a pair of sunglasses. “Where do you wanna go?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Aziraphale’s hand on his arm kept him from putting the shades on his face, and he couldn’t help the small, frustrated hiss that escaped his lips. “I don’t want to go anywhere until we settle this. It seems we’re not quite through with our previous conversation, are we?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “What else is there to say, angel? I fucked up, you don’t trust me, and I can’t do anything with you until you <em>do</em>, so,” he sniffed, “y’know. S’all there is to say about it.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I love you,” blurted Aziraphale, so loudly that it startled Crowley, his gaze flicking up to meet bright, desperate blue eyes. “I love you. I love you <em>so</em> dearly, and I’m so sorry that things are so… complicated, at the moment. But we will work through this, Crowley, and soon we’ll… we’ll have a laugh about it.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Doubt that.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Well, even so. We’ll have moved on. We’ll be… We’ll be <em>happy</em>.” Aziraphale gave a firm nod, then rushed to add, “But I want to be happy with you <em>now</em>, my dear. I want to enjoy our time together, whatever it entails. I know you’re ready for more, or… or so you say, but I– Well, now I suppose it’s <em>my</em> turn to have doubts. Again. B-but we’ll work through them.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Crowley took a deep breath and let it out as subtly as possible. “I know, angel. I’m no stranger to waiting.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Aziraphale swallowed and turned to look out the window. “I know, dear. I’m sorry.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Where do you want to go?” Crowley asked, his voice as tired and small as he felt.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I… I’d thought we could go for a picnic? Something a bit more casual, anyway.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “A picnic would mean bringing our own food, which I haven’t prepared for.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Yes, well. There’s always, er. Miracles.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Crowley turned to frown at Aziraphale. “You hate miracled food.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I don’t <em>hate</em> it, I just don’t prefer it. But it’s not… intolerable.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Crowley sighed. “How about we postpone the picnic, yeah? Next time.” He was silent a moment before saying, “Outside sounds good, though. Don’t think I care to be boxed in someplace right now.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Aziraphale nodded quietly. “We could… We could simply go for a walk. The park would be lovely. You could buy me ice cream,” he said with a smile.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Crowley smirked, putting on his sunglasses before starting up the car. “Who said I was buying you anything, angel?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Well, you <em>did</em> invite me to go out. I believe it’s expected, in those sorts of situations.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Mm-hmm.” Crowley grinned, and sped out of the parking spot he’d created in the middle of the street. He chuckled when Aziraphale sucked in a breath and tensed in his seat. This was normal. Like old times. Which weren’t so bad, really. Sure, he’d been eager to move a bit forward. But a day out with Aziraphale was still a day out with Aziraphale, and he’d be damned if he wasn’t going to enjoy it.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> He tried, anyway. They went to the park, and Crowley had opened and closed his fist several times before reaching out and taking Aziraphale’s hand in his own. It was nice, until it wasn’t. The angel’s hand was warm and soft and squeezed his gently, and it was too much, <em>too much</em>, and Crowley’s mind started racing with thoughts as he allowed Aziraphale to lead their walk.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <em>You’re holding his hand too hard,</em> he told himself,<em> let it go. Loosen up, at least. Fuck. He’s going to let go before you do and then you’re going to feel even worse. Just let go now before he– Fuck.</em></span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Aziraphale let go of his hand momentarily to adjust his waistcoat, then took Crowley’s hand back in his own, giving it a gentle squeeze. He sent a warm smile Crowley’s direction, but the demon was a bit too busy staring down at their joined hands and clenching his jaw.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <em>Stupid. Stupid, stupid. Overthinking. Fuck. Just stop it. S’fine, yeah? Just stop it. Stop it. Stop it. Let go before he does it again. Er, don’t. Wait, is he only holding my hand out of pity? No, that’s stupid, of course he wants to hold my hand. Right? Fuck.</em></span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em> Weird. Feels weird. This is weird. Doesn’t he feel weird about it? Why am I the only one feeling weird here? Feels wrong. Off limits. He’s off limits. Can’t have him can’t have this can’t be happy can’t be loved fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fu–</em>
  </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Crowley?” Aziraphale’s innocently curious voice pulled him out of his thoughts, and he looked up at him with raised brows as he sucked in a breath.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Yuh?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I was asking if you’d like to buy us some ice cream.” Aziraphale lifted their joined hands to point in the direction of a vendor.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Ice cream,” parroted Crowley. “Yup.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Crowley managed to stay present enough to order a treat for Aziraphale, disconnecting their hands because he wasn’t capable of touching the angel and speaking at the same time, apparently. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Nothing for you, dear?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Nah,” said Crowley, taking the dessert the vendor handed him and passing it to Aziraphale.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> He paid for the treat and promptly shoved his hand in his pocket. He didn’t miss the frown on Aziraphale’s face, nor the way the angel had been reaching for him and brought his own hand back to his side. <em>Fuck</em>.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> They continued walking until they came across a family of ducks, Aziraphale smiling as he pointed out the way three male ducks seemed to be fostering a group of younglings. Crowley nodded and forced a smile, while his mind provided a steady background loop of, <em>Take his hand again. He wants to hold it. I’m not ready. Why can’t I– Just grab his stupid hand. Stop. Pay attention to him. Take his hand!</em></span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Oh, will you <em>stop</em> moping?” said Aziraphale, snapping Crowley out of his thoughts. “I’m having a lovely time, you know. I know this isn’t how you wanted today to go, but I thought we’d agreed to enjoy–”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I’m not ready.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I’m sorry?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I’m not ready. You were right, angel. You can’t trust me. I can’t even trust myself. M’not ready for more. Not even able to keep hold of your stupid hand.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Crowley…” Aziraphale fixed him with a sympathetic look. Crowley <em>hated</em> it. Hated how much it made him want to be held, hated that he wasn’t sure he could even handle that.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Thought I’d gotten it figured out but there’s something… else. Something’s off, dunno what. Trying to figure it out.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “You don’t have to figure it all out right this moment, you know. You can take time to enjoy the present.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I want more.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “As do I.” Aziraphale gave him a soft, understanding smile. He leaned forward to press a kiss to the demon’s cheek. “In due time, dear.” He dropped his smile. “Oh, was that– I– I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have–”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “S’fine. I told you you could kiss me without telling me, anyway.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I thought that was only here,” Aziraphale said, pressing a gentle fingertip to Crowley’s forehead.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Crowley shrugged. “Anywhere. Doesn’t matter.” He frowned. “Er, not my neck, though. Gets me all… Dunno, too excited.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “And… your mouth?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “You can… You can kiss me there, yeah. I do it often enough to you, anyway.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Well, yes, but I thought perhaps you preferred to be the one to initiate–”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “You can kiss my mouth, Aziraphale. I’m not going to flip out about it.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “It would be alright if you did.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “No, it fucking <em>wouldn’t</em>,” Crowley snapped.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Crowley.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “<em>Aziraphale</em>.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Aziraphale sighed. “Why do I love you so much?” he muttered, dropping himself onto a nearby bench.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I honestly have no idea.” Crowley didn’t move from where he stood, staring blankly at a piece of trash someone had thrown on the ground. He ought to pick it up, he thought. Miracle it away, in case one of the ducks tried to eat it or something. He didn’t.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Aziraphale snapped his head up to fix Crowley with a concerned frown. “I– I didn’t mean that, Crowley. I know exactly why I love you, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Crowley grumbled something that was incoherent even to himself. He shook his head and sat down beside Aziraphale on the bench.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “May I tell you why?” asked Aziraphale, turning to face him, his hands resting primly on his thighs. Crowley wanted to worship those thighs. He couldn’t, though, could he? Aziraphale lifted a hand to raise Crowley’s chin just a bit, seeking the demon’s attention without forcing eye contact. “Would you be alright with that?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Crowley shrugged.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Stop me if it gets to be too much, of course. But I do want to, er, dote on you a bit, if you’ll allow it.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “…I’ll allow it,” said Crowley, despite himself.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Aziraphale beamed, dropping his hand back to his lap. Crowley ached for more touch while also feeling a strange relief that it was over. “Oh, good,” said Aziraphale. “I’ve been wanting to tell you these things for quite some time, you know.” He took a breath, then told him sweetly, “I love you, Crowley. I love your passion, your curious nature. I love your creative spirit.” He chuckled. “Perhaps it’s a bit selfish of me, but I love how you care for me. The way you’ve always considered my needs. How you’ve respected my boundaries, through the ages. You’ve remained a steadfast friend, even when I couldn’t bring myself to refer to you as such. You’ve always known me so well, Crowley, perhaps even better than I know myself, and I would be– My dear, I would be utterly <em>lost</em> without you.” Aziraphale sighed, fixing him with an adoring smile. “I could sing your praises for eternity, Crowley. And, dangerous though it may be to admit, I would do so with far more passion, far more <em>reverence</em> than any seraph might have for–”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Right, I’m gonna need to stop you,” Crowley blurted, raising a hand to cover Aziraphale’s lips. They were warm and just a bit wet from his tongue and Crowley quickly snapped his hand back down to his side. “Stop.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Aziraphale frowned. “Have I said too much?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “One, yeah, you’re right, s’dangerous to admit,” Crowley said quickly. “Can’t have you Falling for me, angel. Would never forgive myself.” Before Aziraphale could respond to that, he continued, “And two, yeah, it’s… it’s too much. Not in a… a <em>bad</em> way, really, just– Getting me all… excited. Or something. I dunno.” He sucked in a breath. “But, y’know. Thanks.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “For… loving you?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “For telling me why.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Aziraphale smiled. “Of course, darl– er, dear.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Crowley put on a considering frown. “You…,” he said after a moment, “you can… you can use that word, now, I think.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “What, ‘darling’?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Crowley blushed, but nodded. “S’a bit weird, but it’s not… it’s not bad. I think… I think my problem now’s more…,” he grit his teeth, “more about touching you. Words’re fine.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Aziraphale beamed. “Oh, lovely! I– Do tell me, of course, if it becomes uncomfortable at any point, but– Darling, I… I’m so glad to hear that.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Crowley smiled and leaned until his shoulder was touching Aziraphale’s. He didn’t even think about it, just did it. It was alright, actually. It was soft, it was simple. Doable, is what it was. If only he could manage to take his hand…</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Well, it may have gotten off to a bit of a rough start, but I’ve quite enjoyed our date,” Aziraphale said brightly. Then his face fell and he rushed to say, “Or, er, outing, that is. We don’t have to call it a–”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “It’s a date, angel. I <em>meant</em> it to be a date.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Oh,” Aziraphale said, relieved. “Oh, good.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Crowley smiled. “Home?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Aziraphale had been leaning a bit closer, his head almost reaching Crowley’s shoulder before the demon had indicated the end of their date. “Oh, er, yes, I suppose.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Crowley took a breath, then put his hand on the back of Aziraphale’s next to pull him to his shoulder. “We can stay here a little longer, if you want.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Oh,” Aziraphale sighed pleasantly, resting his eyes for a moment as he lay his head on the demon’s shoulder. “Alright, if you’re sure.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Crowley tensed, and Aziraphale shot up to fix him with an apologetic frown.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I– I’m sorry, dear. I’d like to stay here a bit longer, if that’s alright with you. Just a few moments, like this.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> With a slow breath, Crowley nodded and wrapped his arms around the angel. “I dunno why…,” he said after a while. “Why I can’t be… I dunno, consistent with this. The touching, I mean. S’like…,” he gulped, “s’like I want to hold you, and, y’know, be held by you, and all, but I can’t– I can’t always do it. At least it’d make sense if it was, you know, all or nothing, but I keep– I dunno, angel. I like this.” He squeezed Aziraphale’s shoulder for emphasis. “This is fine, this is– I can handle this. But earlier, the mere <em>thought</em> of holding your hand was… I dunno. Doesn’t make sense. And I’m sorry for it. I’m sorry it’s not… I’m sorry I’m not predictable.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Well, anxiety is rather known for that, isn’t it?” said Aziraphale, absently tracing patterns on the back of Crowley’s hand, which had come to rest on the angel’s thigh. “You’re doing alright now, aren’t you? You’re… comfortable, I hope?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Crowley gave an affirmative hum. He hesitated before turning his hand palm-up, and intertwining their fingers. He smiled to himself, looking down at their joined hands, then frowned. “Why’s it all seem so impossible sometimes? Why can’t I just be… <em>stable</em>?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Darling, we’ve just discussed it,” said Aziraphale gently. “Anxiety doesn’t necessarily allow for that. We’ve seen it in humans for millennia.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <em>Humans</em>, thought Crowley. <em>Not demons. Not supernatural entities.</em> “I’m not a bloody human, am I? So why’s it happening to <em>me</em>?!”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I’m no stranger to anxiety, either, you know.” Aziraphale squeezed his hand. “Perhaps it’s a side-effect of living among them.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Alpha Centauri sounds better by the minute,” Crowley quipped, angling his head to shoot Aziraphale a little smile to lighten the mood. He wasn’t about to be the reason their date ended on a sour note.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Aziraphale gave a light chuckle. “Maybe a little holiday one of these days would do us some good.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “You ready for me to take you home?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Mm, I suppose.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> They went back to the shop, hand in hand even as Crowley drove, and he even felt up to a kiss by the time he walked Aziraphale to the doorstep. It was quick, more of a peck on the corner of the mouth than a full kiss, but it made him feel fidgety in a decidedly good way. They were <em>dating</em>. Officially. They had a word for their time together. <em>Dates</em>. And it was okay, it was great, and it broke Crowley’s heart a little to leave Aziraphale at the shop and go back to his flat, but he resolved to continue to work on his anxiety until he could follow the angel upstairs one day and call it <em>home</em>.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>If it seems like Crowley is all over the place in regards to his boundaries, it’s because he <i>is</i>. In my experience, anxiety can really make your ability to handle certain things fluctuate at random times. The thing that felt doable or even <i>enjoyable</i> just a few minutes ago could become the source of a panic attack at the drop of a hat. Figuring out what you want is so much more difficult when it keeps <i>changing</i>. Much love and support to anyone who knows that this is like. &lt;3</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Chapter 8</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Five. Five official dates, they’d been on, since Crowley had decided they could call them that. Five dates, and Crowley didn’t feel any closer to figuring his proverbial shit out. He still wavered around holding Aziraphale’s hand, still had to take a deep breath while contemplating whether or not to kiss him. Sometimes it was easier than others. On their third date, they’d taken a day trip to the coast, and laid out on the sand, and it’d felt so natural to cuddle up together on their beach blanket. He’d even hand-fed Aziraphale a few pieces of fruit from their picnic basket. On their fourth date, he’d dropped the angel back at the shop without a kiss goodbye, because he’d spent half their outing with his brain screaming at him that, <em>HE’S OFF LIMITS. STOP TRYING TO GET CLOSER TO HIM. HE’S NOT </em>FOR<em> YOU.</em></span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Aziraphale was understanding every time, and never pouted, never pushed Crowley to do anything he wasn’t comfortable with, even if they’d done it before. Crowley thought he ought to be grateful about that, but it only served to make him resent himself more.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Still, at the end of their fifth date, he asked Aziraphale to start calling him “his”. There was no specific word for their partnership that felt right. “Boyfriend” was too immature, and “husband” was nice but they weren’t <em>married</em> (nor were they men, really). “Partner” just didn’t do it for him. “Lover” was sweet in theory but made him want to toss himself into the deepest ring of Hell in practice (and it made him lament the fact that they were yet to make love). So, while they were still sitting in the Bentley, just outside of the shop, Crowley blurted out, “I’m yours, you know.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Aziraphale looked to him with raised brows. “Oh?” he said, a hint of amusement in his hopeful voice.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Yup. And you’re… You’re mine,” said Crowley. “Can… Can we say that? Can we call it that? Us, I mean. We’re… Us. Ours. Each other’s. No other words feel right, s’far as I’m concerned. If we’re introducing ourselves to people, I’ll just say you’re mine. My Aziraphale. My <em>angel</em>. And you can call me yours. Y’know… <em>your</em> Crowley. And people will get the idea.” He took Aziraphale’s hand in his own and squeezed it lightly. “I <em>want</em> them to get the idea.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Aziraphale, of course, was more than pleased with this development, and nodded eagerly, tears forming in his eyes as he said, “Yes, I– I would like that, too.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Crowley didn’t walk him to the door this time. Just leaned over and gave him a kiss, even dared to swipe his tongue over the angel’s still-smiling mouth, which led to a deeper kiss for a sweet, brief moment before he pulled away, sending him off with an earnest, “See you tomorrow, angel.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> The sixth date had a great start. They had a picnic in the park, and Crowley was more than comfortable feeding Aziraphale some finger-foods again. He even let Aziraphale feed him a particularly “scrumptious” bite of angel food cake, topped with strawberry sauce and cream, and while he found it a <em>bit</em> too sweet for his tastes, he relished the feeling of the angel’s fingers against his lips. He’d been tempted to suck those fingers into his mouth, lick every bit of cream from the soft digits. Yes, it was all going wonderfully.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> So wonderfully, in fact, that his body began to react. His skin felt warm, a blush rising on his cheeks, and he had to stifle a moan when he realized he was getting wet, his clit pulsing in a desperate need for <em>more. </em>He’d half a mind to miracle the two of them back to the shop that instant, and finally <em>do</em> something.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Are you feeling alright, my dear?” said Aziraphale. “You look a bit flushed.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I’m– Yeah. I’m good.” Crowley sucked in a breath. “Can we head back? Your place, or mine, whatever, I don’t care, I just– I think I want– I want–”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Oh!” Aziraphale caught on and licked his lips, swiping a bit of cream that had strayed from the corner of his mouth. “Are you–”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I’m <em>sure</em>.” Crowley hesitated, then, and said in a bit smaller voice, “I think.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Well, let’s… Let’s head back, then, and if you’re still feeling up to it, then, er, I suppose I would be… I suppose I am ready to trust you. To take you at your word, I mean. That you really want…”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Crowley nodded hurriedly, scrambling to get up and miracle their picnic basket and blanket into the back of the Bentley. “Let’s go. Before I change my mind.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Crowley, I don’t think that’s how–”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Come on, angel,” said Crowley, grabbing Aziraphale’s hand and all but <em>yanking</em> him in the direction of the car. His hands were clammy. He clung to Aziraphale’s tightly and willed his corporation to a suitable temperature.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Crowley, you seem a bit nervous, dear.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Yeah, I’m nervous, that’s normal, isn’t it? Nerves, at a new thing. S’fine, I can handle it, it’s fine. First times are always a bit weird, yeah? I just need… I need <em>you</em>.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Aziraphale allowed Crowley to lead him to the Bentley, and graciously kept hold of his hand the entire ride back to the shop. Crowley managed to silence any worries in his brain (mostly by repeating <em>LET THIS HAPPEN, LET IT WORK, JUST LET IT HAPPEN, DON’T FREAK OUT AGAIN</em> so loudly that no other thoughts could make themselves heard), and was doing just fine, thank you, until he had the angel pinned against the wall the moment they closed the door to the shop. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> He couldn’t. He didn’t even know where to <em>begin</em>. A kiss, maybe? It seemed the thing to do to get this sort of thing started. Crowley tossed his sunglasses to the side, then leaned forward and pressed his lips to Aziraphale’s. The angel let out a surprised squeak against his mouth and quickly opened up to allow a deeper kiss. <em>Good</em>, this was good. Crowley licked into Aziraphale’s mouth, letting his hands roam the angel’s chest for a moment before he decided to get to work on undressing himself. He held Aziraphale in a sloppy kiss as he shrugged off his coat, then began unbuttoning his waistcoat. His fingers trembled, and before he knew it he was sobbing against the angel’s shoulder, clinging to him in effort to stay standing.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Crowley,” breathed Aziraphale, so softly it made the demon ache. He was disappointing him, wasn’t he? Pushing himself too far again, after the angel had made it clear that he didn’t want to do anything before Crowley was ready. But how could he ever be ready for something he’d never <em>done</em> before? Crowley sobbed harder as Aziraphale brought a hand up to rub soothingly at his back. “Oh, darling… It’s alright.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “We just had all this… this progress yesterday,” said Crowley, sniffling into Aziraphale’s coat. “I really thought I was getting somewhere, and now it’s– I’m–”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Crowley, dearest, take a breath, alright?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Why can’t I <em>touch</em> you?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I’m… I’m not sure. But that’s alright, we don’t–”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “It’s– Fuck’s sake, angel, it’s <em>not</em> alright!” Crowley pulled back, no longer caring to hide his puffy eyes and tear-streaked face from his angel. His desperate cries turned into wretched anger as he vocalized his frustration with himself. “Maybe it is with you, but it’s not alright with <em>me</em>! I want– I <em>need</em> more. I <em>crave</em> you. Every cursed day, I long for– Look, I just– I want to– Why can’t I <em>touch</em> you?!”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Aziraphale was quiet for a moment, simply holding Crowley with a pitying look. Crowley huffed and averted his gaze, prompting the angel to gently say, “You know, it’s quite alright to have moods. Maybe we’ve been making a larger deal of this than it needs to be. There are plenty of times when you’re happy to hold my hand, to kiss me, to have a cuddle, and so on, and there are times when perhaps you’re simply not in the <em>mood</em> for such things, and that’s alright.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Crowley shook his head. “That’s not it. ‘And so on’?” He looked back up at Aziraphale, eyes fully demonic and utterly <em>desperate</em>. “Angel, I want to have <em>sex</em> with you. Have done for… fuck, millennia, and yet I still can’t– And anyway, it’s not about moods. When I can’t bring myself to hold your hand it’s not because I’m not in the mood, angel, it’s because I <em>can’t</em> do it. I <em>can’t</em>, I– I <em>want</em> to, but I <em>can’t</em>.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Aziraphale looked thoughtful for a moment. “Is it…,” he began, then closed his mouth.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “What?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Is it perhaps that you feel you need permission? If I were to tell you that you <em>can</em>… That you’re quite welcome to hold my hand, to kiss me, to… to make <em>love</em> to me… Would that help? Is that what you need, Crowley?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Crowley considered, then wiped the tears from his cheeks defeatedly. “I… I’m sorry, angel,” he said, his voice raw and wavering, “but I don’t think that’s it. I need… I think I… I need… I need more <em>time</em>.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Oh! Of course, dear, I wasn’t suggesting w–”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Apart. I need time apart. I can’t– I can’t <em>think</em> around you. Or all I <em>do</em> is think. I’m too in my head, I’m too– I can’t– It’s too <em>loud</em> in here, and I can’t, I can’t, I can’t figure my shit out if I’m near you, because I’m too busy <em>dealing</em> with said shit, and overthinking it, and–”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Darling, I understand. You need your space, and we’ve– Well, you’ve been staying at your flat, but we’ve still been spending quite a lot of time together. Perhaps it would be best if we didn’t see each other for some time.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Aziraphale didn’t look any more happy to suggest it than Crowley was to agree with it, but it seemed the best option. “How long?” asked Crowley, his voice small.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Well, until you’re… Until you’re <em>ready</em>, I suppose.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “‘Until I’m ready’ isn’t– I don’t even know what ‘ready’ <em>looks</em> like, angel, I just– I need a break. Time to think on my own, and then, I don’t know, we could… reassess again. A week, maybe,” said Crowley, whose corporation pointed out the need for more time by making his heart race and giving him an ache in the pit of his stomach. “Er, two,” Crowley amended.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Aziraphale gave a nod. “A fortnight, then. We’ll separate, give you time to breathe, to work things out, a-and then, we’ll see how you’re feeling,” said Aziraphale, the statement taking the tone of a question by the time he reached the end of it, looking to Crowley hesitantly.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Fine.” Crowley sniffed. “Fine, yeah. Guess I’ll… I’ll be going, then.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Now?” asked Aziraphale, and Crowley couldn’t bring himself to meet those sad eyes.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Sooner I go the sooner I can come back, yeah?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I… Alright.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Right.” Crowley sucked in a breath, then tidied himself and moved to open the door. “See you then, angel.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Crowley managed not to let his tears blur his vision as he drove, and the Bentley’s radio had the good sense to stay quiet through the trip to the Mayfair flat.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> He threw the door open and kicked it closed, and even made it into his bedroom before he collapsed at the foot of the empty bed. No tears came. He just sat there, feeling a bit beside himself. He looked down at the space between his legs. How <em>desperately</em> he’d wanted to have an angel there just a short while ago. Or, so he’d thought. His body had wanted it, at least. Why was his mind so damned stubborn about the whole thing?</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Crowley blew out a sigh and lifted himself, climbing onto the bed and curling up in the middle of it. Absently, he worked his jeans off, and put his hand in his red lace panties. He’d taken to wearing lingerie under his clothes almost every day, in some futile attempt to get used to being just a little bit sexual when around Aziraphale. All the good <em>that’d</em> done…</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> If he could just get used to the idea of being <em>touched</em> by Aziraphale, and touching him in return, he thought, then his problems would be over. He’d be able to accept the angel as his lover and thus use words like “lover” without panicking about it, right?</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> He rubbed his clit tentatively at first, keeping quiet as he focused on imagining Aziraphale’s fingers on him rather than his own. Then, he sped up and let the moans he’d been holding back fall freely from his lips.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> It hurt. Not physically–it felt <em>damn</em> <em>good,</em> physically. But… some other way. It hurt. It hurt that he had to do it alone. It hurt that Aziraphale wanted this and he couldn’t give it to him. It hurt that he was pretty sure <em>he</em> wanted it and yet he couldn’t seem to let himself have it.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> In a matter of minutes, he came with a shout of Aziraphale’s name, as he had so many times before, and subsequently curled in on himself and sobbed.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>one step forward, two steps back, eh? anxiety be like that sometimes.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Chapter 9</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Crowley spent the first day and a half of what he was calling his “Get Your Shit Together” break crying, napping, and masturbating. He came five times in 36 hours, all while fantasizing about the angel he still didn’t feel ready to touch.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “’N s’not like I don’t <em>want</em> to!”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> The plants lowered their leaves in hesitant sympathy as Crowley wailed at them, utterly sloshed as he approached the end of Day Two.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Of <em>course</em> I want to, you all <em>know</em> I want to,” he told them. They did know, in fact. Getting drunk and wailing to greenery about his unfulfilled desires had become something of a semi-centennial occurrence. That might be why they were also cowering, given that Crowley always seemed to be extra cross with them the next day, ashamed of having allowed himself to be so vulnerable around them.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “S’just… I <em>can’t</em>, can I?” Yellow eyes searched pleadingly for an answer from quivering branches. Crowley plopped himself down on the cold floor, cradling the lemon balm he’d brought out from its special place beside his bed. He looked down at it with a pout. “Why can’t I?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> The lemon balm didn’t speak, as it was a plant.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Why can’t–<em>hic</em>– Why can’t I just touch him? I <em>want</em> to… I <em>want</em> to!”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> The sound of his own desperate cries bouncing off the cold walls of the flat and echoing back to him tore an angry growl from the distressed demon, who launched the little lemon balm across the room. Its clay pot shattered on impact, soil staining the wall and floor where it fell.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “<em>No!</em>” Crowley shouted, fighting his drunken clumsiness in order to stand and run to the other side of the room. “No, wait, no– Wait.” He crouched down and picked up the little plant, its leaves dirtied by its own soil and crumpled in many places. “I’ve broken you,” he whimpered, cradling the remains of the gifted plant to his chest. “I’ve <em>broken</em> you… Angel, I’m sorry. I’m <em>sorry!</em>”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Crowley gathered enough determination to sober himself, and frowned at the mess in his hands (and on his rumpled pajama shirt). “Right,” he sighed, sniffling away the last of his tears. “Well. That’s that, then.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> With a quick demonic miracle, the pot reformed itself, the soil found its way back inside, and the plant looked fresh as the day he’d received it. He stood, walking back into his bedroom and setting the plant back on its display table. It was as though it’d never happened. But he’d always know. He’d remember, each time he looked at the little plant, that he’d taken something precious and destroyed it.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Would he do the same to Aziraphale?</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Fuck,” said Crowley, as though the thought had punched him in the gut. He staggered back and took a seat on the edge of the bed, staring idly at the renewed plant. “Fuck…”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Crowley knew, of course, that being a demon didn’t actually make him an evil, horrible, sick sadistic fuck. He’d never bought into that ideology. As far as he was concerned, being designated a demon didn’t make him anymore wicked than being an angel made anyone inherently righteous. It came down to choice, and Crowley had always been more likely to choose a bit of mischief in his demonic doings than to actually <em>harm</em> anyone. He wasn’t evil. There wasn’t an ounce in him that wanted to <em>break</em> Aziraphale. But, then, he hadn’t really wanted to break that plant, had he? And yet he’d managed to destroy in mere seconds one of the only gifts that the angel had ever given him in all their six thousand years.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <em>“Well, obviously, you’re a demon; it’s what you do.”</em></span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Oh. <em>Oh</em>, so… So maybe he’d internalized that a bit? All those years of Aziraphale convincing himself that they were on opposite sides… insinuating and sometimes outright stating that, as a demon, he was prone to wickedness. Crowley had never agreed with him, but could it be that hearing it so often had given him some sort of… some sort of complex or something?</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Crowley sighed and let his head fall to his hands. He massaged his eyes and saw stars behind his eyelids. Stars. He’d <em>made</em> some of those… Creation. Quite the opposite of destruction, yeah? Right! His hands were just as able to build as they were to tear down. He could <em>heal</em> just as easily as he could harm. His touch could… could…</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Fuck, could it <em>harm</em> Aziraphale? Without even intending to, could he… Well, he was a demon, after all. What if his touch <em>burned</em> Aziraphale? No, no– That was ridiculous, wasn’t it? It’s not as though they’d never touched before! He’d have noticed if it’d caused a… a <em>sizzle,</em> or something.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> But… But what if, should their souls collide as they made love… What if Crowley’s essence acted like hellfire, destroying Aziraphale’s very being?</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <em>“Angel, demon, probably explode…”</em></span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Crowley whimpered and threw himself back on the bed with a sigh. He raised his hands and pounded his fists at the sides of his head in a futile attempt to get his mind to <em>shut up, thank you, I’m not interested in pursuing </em>that<em> particular thought any further.</em> His mind didn’t seem phased by his discomfort and continued to explore what it might look like, how it might <em>feel,</em> to have Aziraphale cracking and burning and crumbling into ash at his fingertips.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> A nap, then. A nap sounded <em>great</em>.</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> A week into the break, Crowley was almost starting to feel normal again. As in, he longed for Aziraphale. He wanted him near, he wanted to touch him, he wanted to make him smile and laugh and to see him pout when he teased him. He wanted to buy him lunch and watch him enjoy it. He wanted to take him to a play and watch his eyes shine with the reflection of the stage lights. It wasn’t much different than how he’d always felt, for millennia now. The only difference was that now he could <em>have</em> it, freely, openly. And so much more. He could kiss him, he could <em>touch</em> him… If he could just–</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <em>Crash.</em></span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> The sound of glass shattering on the concrete floor outside his bedroom pulled Crowley from his thoughts and had him jumping into a defensive position as he peered into the rest of his flat.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “What–”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> A loud squawk gave Crowley his answer before he’d even had the chance to ask it; the source of all the commotion was a dove, which had somehow found its way into his flat and was flapping frantically in search of a way out. Crowley ducked as it swooped over his head the moment he entered the room. He noticed it was holding an envelope in its beak. When the bird looped back around, Crowley snatched the letter from it and miracled the poor creature outdoors with a snap of his fingers. With another miracle, he repaired the broken vase that had been tipped over amidst the chaos.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Crowley turned the envelope around in his hand and miracled up a letter opener, slicing carefully at the edge as though he thought something treacherous might spill out. Hell really wasn’t likely to send notes, and anyway he was meant to be left <em>alone</em>…</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “What in– Oh. Huh.” Crowley chuckled, because <em>of course</em>. It was a hand-written note. From Aziraphale. Crowley unfolded the ancient paper and squinted at the calligraphic script for a moment before his brain was able to translate the fancy letters into words.</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p> </p>

<p></p><blockquote>
  <p class="p1">
    <span class="s1"> <em>Dearest Crowley,</em></span>
  </p>
  <p class="p1"><span class="s1"> <em>     I’ve been thinking about you constantly. I regret that we have to spend time apart, but I do hope you’re doing well. The flat above the shop is nearly ready to be called our Home! I’ve added a few </em> </span> <strike><span class="s2"> <em>demonic</em> </span></strike> <span class="s1"> <em> finishing touches I think you might enjoy.</em> </span></p>
  <p class="p1">
    <span class="s1"> <em>With much love,</em> </span>
  </p>
  <p class="p1">
    <span class="s1"><em>   Aziraphale</em> </span>
  </p>
  <p class="p1">
    <span class="s1"><em>     P.S. I do hope this isn’t too much interaction for you at this time, my dear. Please do feel free to tell me if it is. You may dispose of this note and be assured that I will never do such a thing again if you don't wish it. I simply wanted to make sure you knew that I love you even when I’m not physically there to say it.</em> </span>
  </p>
  <p class="p1">
    <span class="s1"><em>     I love you.</em> </span>
  </p>
  <p class="p1">
    <span class="s1"> <em>        Your Angel</em> </span>
  </p>
</blockquote><p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Crowley folded the note back up, walked silently to his room, and slid it under his pillow. He wasn’t going to cry about it, was he? No, that’d be… That’d be… Oh, fuck, alright. He was crying about it before he had the chance to stop himself. He flopped down onto the mattress and buried his face in his pillow. He tried to scream into it but it came out as more of a muffled squeak.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> He wasn’t sad. Not really. He was… He was… frustrated. Not sexually. Well, <em>yes</em>, sexually, but that was nothing new. He was <em>lonely</em>. He <em>missed</em> his angel. He needed to see him, to hold him…</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> But he wasn’t ready. He <em>knew</em> he wasn’t ready. Aziraphale was within reach, but being so close to him, being as intimate as he so craved, it still felt like a dream. Easy to imagine, but damn-near impossible to actually <em>do</em>. Half his break was over, and he didn’t feel any closer to having figured his shit out.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Dreams… I could try again, couldn’t I?” he asked no one. “Lucid dreaming. Touching him. Making him feel good. I could try it again…”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Crowley promptly slipped into a dream with determination and found Aziraphale cuddled up to his side, nearly in his lap. They lay on the bed in Aziraphale’s flat, and Crowley whimpered at the realization of just how much he <em>missed</em> that bed… He wrapped his arms around his dream’s version of Aziraphale, holding him tightly. It felt right. He needed this. He could <em>have</em> this. This was okay.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Oh! Hello, dear,” the angel said dreamily. “I’ve missed you terribly, you know.” He turned his head and nipped at Crowley’s earlobe, then began to trace his tongue down the demon’s jawline.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Crowley shrugged out of dream-Aziraphale’s reach. “Right. Slow down, yeah? Gonna try to do this myself.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Do what?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Initiate. Sex things. Get you aroused.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Oh, really now,” said Aziraphale, with a coquettish blush. “It’s not as though you’ve much work to do, there.” He spread his legs, revealing a bulge in his trousers. “I’ve been thinking of you all day, dearest. Could hardly focus on my books, you know. Would you care to do something about–”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Crowley let out a frustrated little growl and snapped himself into a fresh dream setting, with a less-frisky Aziraphale. He could only blame himself, really. Some part of him <em>clearly</em> wanted to see the angel seduce him. But that wasn’t the point of this exercise, was it?</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Hi,” he greeted the new dream-Aziraphale. “Want to make you feel good.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Oh, I– I want you to feel good, too, you know,” said this version of Aziraphale, who was so earnest it almost seemed like a mockery.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Crowley rolled his eyes. “I know. I <em>know</em>, angel, I just– Let me make you feel good first, yeah? One thing at a time.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Aziraphale harrumphed and folded his arms over his chest. “Dear, I believe one of the finer things about sex is the opportunity for us <em>both</em> to feel good, <em>together</em>.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Yeah, well I’m having a <em>bit</em> of trouble getting comfortable with all this, so, <em>one thing at a time,</em>” Crowley said through his teeth. “This is <em>my</em> dream, anyhow. Let me do this.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Your… dream?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Crowley pinched the bridge of his nose. “Right, I’m not doing this right now.” He snapped his fingers and replaced the dream-Aziraphale with another. “Hi. I’m gonna do sex stuff with you. Good?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> The new dream-Aziraphale’s brows shot up, apparently at the bluntness of it all. “I– Er, well, <em>yes</em>, obviously, I’m– I’m more than amenable to that, dear.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Crowley nodded. “Good. Let’s… Let’s go somewhere more familiar.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> With a snap, they were cuddling on the sofa in the back of the shop. Crowley let out a pointless breath and continued nodding to himself. “Right. Good. Okay. Just gonna, er– Well, to start, uh–”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Crowley,” said Aziraphale, putting his hand on the demon’s arm. “Enough babbling. Just touch me.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Crowley snapped his mouth shut and nodded. He slid his hand from his own knee to Aziraphale’s, then trailed it up the angel’s thigh, pausing right at the top, his fingers mere centimeters away from the bulge in Aziraphale’s trousers. Crowley sucked in a breath, then continued to nod. He closed his eyes, and leaned closer to Aziraphale, pressing his mouth to his neck and mouthing at the soft skin there. Aziraphale made a pleased sound and leaned into his touch, prompting Crowley to begin rubbing at the angel’s cock through his trousers. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Wanna make you feel good,” said Crowley, somehow managing not to freak out. In fact, he felt increasingly confident as he continued to murmur against the angel’s neck. “You deserve to feel good. Do you feel good, angel?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Aziraphale moaned. “Yes, so– So good, Crowley. So… warm.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Warm?” asked Crowley, slipping his hand into the angel’s pants and groaning when he felt the skin of his leaking cock.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “<em>Hot</em>.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Crowley grinned. “Yeah. Yeah, I’d have to agree.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Aziraphale shook his head and began coughing, lifting a hand to his neck to tug at his bowtie. “H-hot, Crowley, it’s– I’m–” He gave a startled cry. “Crowley! Crowley, s-stop, it’s– I’m–”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Crowley froze as he felt dream-Aziraphale’s corporation suddenly begin to burn under his touch. He sprang off the sofa, staggering back, and he watched in horror as the angel’s pink skin began to crack, black smoke pouring from the fractures as Aziraphale screamed in agony.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “It… <em>hurts</em>, Crowley, <em>p</em>-<em>please</em>–”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> The angel’s body went up in flames, which quickly spread throughout the shop. Crowley, having been so overcome with fear that he’d lost his lucidity and now believed the dream to be reality, did all he could to try and stop it, to miracle the flames away, to heal Aziraphale, but nothing worked. Aziraphale crumbled to ashes with a shrill cry, and Crowley fell to his knees, screaming.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “No. No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no! <em>No!</em> Angel!”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Crowley shot up in bed, shouting as he scrambled to the floor before he realized it’d all been a dream. With shaking hands he reached for his phone and dialed Aziraphale. Before the angel even had the chance to speak, Crowley whimpered, “I dreamt there was a fire and you were burning and I couldn’t save you and I need– I need to hear your voice.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “<em>Oh, Crowley,”</em> Aziraphale responded in sympathy. <em>“Oh, my dear, I’m so sorry. I’m alright, you know. I was just sat here in the shop, reading. No fires here.</em>”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Crowley nodded to himself, tears stinging his eyes. “Yeah, ‘course. You’re fine. Yeah.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <em>“Yes. I am </em>fine<em>, Crowley,”</em> Aziraphale assured him. <em>“I’m here.”</em></span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Crowley sniffled for a bit before he could gather himself enough to say, his voice raw, “I don’t think I’ll be ready by next week, angel, I’m so sorry.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “<em>Oh, dearest, I never expected you to be,”</em> said Aziraphale gently. “<em>Have you made any progress, do you think?</em>”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Yeah. Yeah. I mean, I– Yeah. I’ve realized some things, at least.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “<em>Oh?”</em></span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Crowley nodded, thankful for the conversation to be steered away from his dream, but unsure of how to phrase his findings. “Er… I think… I think you’re fragile.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “<em>Pardon?!</em>”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Not– Maybe that’s not it. Not that you’re <em>fragile</em>, but that <em>I’m</em>– That I’ll–” He sucked in a breath. “Just, subconsciously, somewhere, deep down, I’m afraid I’m going to break you. That my touch will…” Crowley exhaled slowly and shook his head. “I don’t know. Demon, angel… <em>explosions</em>, you know.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “<em>Well</em>,” said Aziraphale, with a small huff, “<em>I really don’t think you need to worry about that. After all, we’ve already been inside one another, haven’t we?</em>”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Crowley flushed. “Nngh, w–”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Aziraphale cut him off with a “tsk”. <em>“Not in that way, you wicked thing,” </em>he said, though there was no malice in his voice. <em>“You know what I’m referring to.”</em></span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Yeah, okay, but–”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “<em>Our essences swapped in each other’s corporations. And I don’t recall any burning away of my holiness under your demonic form. Not even a bit of smoke.</em>”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Crowley closed his eyes and willed away the image of smoke pouring from the cracks in dream-Aziraphale’s corporation. “I’m– I’m not saying I actually believe my touch will hurt you, angel.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “<em>Weren’t you?</em>”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Not– Not really. It’s just a fear, yeah? Irrational, sure, but it’s there. And I don’t know how to– The dream I had, the <em>nightmare</em>, it was– It started out with me touching you, and then you started coughing and burning and then it sort of turned into the whole bookshop going up in flames, but– I don’t know, maybe I’m just, er, not over it. Finding the shop like that. Thinking you were gone.” Crowley sniffled. “Whatever my problem is in being able to touch you, maybe… maybe that dream wasn’t so much about that, maybe that’s not really a fear that’s related to… to the sex stuff. Maybe I’m just being a stupid, pathetic–”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “<em>I’ll thank you not to insult my beloved,</em>” Aziraphale rushed to say. He softened his voice. <em>“Darling, I don’t at all think you ‘stupid’ or ‘pathetic’ for having… well, for having trauma after what happened at the bookshop. You were there, weren’t you? When it was up in flames?”</em></span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Crowley nodded. “Thought you were in there,” he said, voice tight. “Thought I’d lost you.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <em>“Oh! Crowley! I– I didn’t realize you– Oh, my darling, when you said you’d lost your– I, I never realized you meant–”</em></span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “It’s fine. You weren’t dead, you came back, it’s fine, and it’s stupid of me to still be thinking about it.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <em>“You know full well that’s not how that works, Crowley.”</em></span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I just want to come home,” said Crowley, with a lump in his throat. “I don’t care if I can’t fuck you yet, I just want to be near you, angel, I can’t– I can’t take this any longer. I… I fucking <em>miss</em> you. We spent millennia looking over our shoulders and now we’re free and I don’t want to waste any more time, a-and I’d been so caught up in wanting to get to the part where we’re comfortable– where <em>I’m</em> comfortable, with you, in– in that way… that I’ve been neglecting my need to just… <em>be</em> with you. I just want you close, Aziraphale, and I’m sorry that I can’t touch you in certain ways yet, but I need you here. I need to be <em>there</em>. This place isn’t… It’s not home anymore. Never was. You’re home. Let me come home, please, just let me come home.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <em>“…May I pop over?”</em></span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Crowley frowned. “Wh–”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <em>“I’m coming over,”</em> said Aziraphale decidedly. The line went dead and suddenly there was an angel in Crowley’s bedroom. “Hello.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “H– Hi,” said Crowley, still gathering himself from the sudden shift from phone conversation to face-to-face. He beamed. “Missed you.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Yes, dear,” said Aziraphale softly, a kind twinkle in his eye. “So you’ve said. I’ve missed you, too, you know. Terribly.” He took a tentative step toward the bed. “May I hold you?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Please.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Aziraphale nodded and climbed onto the bed beside Crowley, pulling him into his arms. There was a slight crinkling noise, under the demon’s pillow, which earned a perplexed frown from the angel.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Crowley smiled softly before explaining, “Got your letter.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Oh!” Aziraphale brightened. “Oh, lovely.” He suddenly looked hesitant. “I– Er, that is, I– I hope it wasn’t too much.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Crowley huffed a laugh and relaxed more against Aziraphale’s body, pressing his head to his chest. “Miracling a bloody <em>bird</em> into my flat might have been toeing the line a bit, but no, angel, it wasn’t too much.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I do hope the poor thing wasn’t too confused…”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Oh, it was utterly <em>thrilled</em> to be there,” said Crowley, flatly. “Chirped happily and flew out the nearest window after dropping the envelope in my welcoming hand.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Aziraphale harrumphed. “Well, now you’re just mocking my sentiment.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Crowley cackled. “I’m not! Alright, so I had to miracle the poor thing out of here after it broke some glass–”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “It <em>wha</em>–”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “–but no harm done. And I put the letter under my pillow, didn’t I? How’s <em>that</em> for sentimentality,” said Crowley, proudly, as though he’d just won a competition.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Aziraphale huffed, but relaxed back against the pillow. “Oh, you’re <em>infuriating</em>,” he said, his voice dripping with affection. He ran a hand through the demon’s hair, still damp with sweat, and then sighed and leaned down to press a kiss to the top of his head. “I would like nothing more than for you to come back,” he said, continuing to run his fingers through Crowley’s hair. “To come <em>home</em>. I think you’re right, I think we’ve both been focused a bit too much on the, er, <em>newer</em> aspects of our continuously developing relationship, and forgotten what it’s like to simply be together, as we used to. And now that we’re free to, well, to <em>be</em> together, we–”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Yeah, you had me at ‘come home’,” said Crowley, craning his neck to look at the angel holding him. “Can we go? Can we just go there, now? ‘Pop’ back over?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Aziraphale looked a bit annoyed at having been cut off, but then smiled and said, “Of course, dearest.” Then, under his breath (but no less fond), “You utterly impatient thing.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “That’s me,” said Crowley, grinning. “Let’s go, yeah?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Hand in hand, Crowley and Aziraphale returned home, to the flat above the shop. A second and one demonic miracle later, the letter and the lemon balm joined them.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p><b>Full Disclosure:</b> I have struggled with anxiety in the past, and do still feel its weight from time to time, but am not nearly as affected by it as I used to be; I've been lucky to have overcome a lot of it. I wanted to write something that could resonate with others who've dealt with or are currently dealing with anxiety. When my mental health was at its worst, I found a lot of solace in reading fics where my faves had anxiety attacks, and following their journey as they worked through it. I want to put something like that into the world, too. So, here's this. </p><p>I am not a doctor/therapist/etc., so please do not take any parts of this fic (or my comments in the notes) as medical advice. If you are experiencing symptoms of anxiety and/or panic disorders, please seek help with a psychologist/therapist if you are able.<br/><a href="https://adaa.org/tips-manage-anxiety-and-stress">Here are some</a> <a href="https://www.healthline.com/health/mental-health/how-to-cope-with-anxiety#long-term-strategies">resources for</a> <a href="https://www.mind.org.uk/information-support/types-of-mental-health-problems/anxiety-and-panic-attacks/self-care-for-anxiety/">anxiety.</a><br/><b>Please know you are so wonderful, so worthy of love, and so much more capable than you realize, Love.</b> &lt;3</p></blockquote></div></div>
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